THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SHREWSBURY 


By   STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF.  A  Romance.  With  Frontis- 
piece and  Vignette.     Crown  8vo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

THE  STORY  OF   FRANCIS   CLUDDE.     A   Romance.     With 

four  Illustrations.     Crown  8vo,  $1.25. 

A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE.  Being  the  Memoirs  of  Gaston 
de  Bonne,  Sieur  de  Marsac.  With  Frontispiece  and  Vignette. 
Crown  8vo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE.  With  twelve  full-page  Illustrations. 
Crown  8vo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

MY  LADY  ROTHA.  A  Romance  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War. 
With  eight  Illustrations.     Crown  8vo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

FROM  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  A  MINISTER  OF  FRANCE. 
With  thirty-six  Illustrations.     Crown  8vo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

SHREWSBURY.  A  Romance.  With  twenty-four  Illustrations. 
Crown  8vo,  $1.50. 


New  York  :  Longmans,  Green,  and  Co. 


WITH    A    GESTURE   BETWEEN    CONTEMPT   AND    IMPATIENCE 

THE   DUKE    REMOVED    HIS    HAT  — p.   1 76. 


SHREWSBURY 


a  IRomancc 


BY 


STANLEY   J.    WEYMAN 

AUTHOR  OF  "a  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE,"  "  UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE," 
"the  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 
LONGMANS,  GREEN,  AND  CO. 

LONDON  AND   BOMBAY 
1898 


Copyright,  1897 
3y  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN 


All  rights  reserved 


MANHATTAN  PRESS 

474  W.  BROADWAY 

NEW  YORK 


TO   MY   BROTHER   HENRY 

IN  MEMORY  OF  A  SUNDAY  AFTERNOON    IN    THE  YEAR    1877 
THIS    BOOK     IS    DEDICATED 


93113.1. 


LIST  OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

With  a  gesture  between    contempt  and  impatience  the 

DUKE  removed  HIS  HAT Frontispiece. 

PAGE 

She  looked  directly  at  me 13 

In  an  instant  i  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence    .     21 

Stole  down  the  stairs  and  into  the  garden  .         .         .34 

My  companion  seized  my  wrist 37 

The  constable  led  me  out  of  the  crowd  .         .         .73 

"  When  my  back  is  turned  go  through  that  window  "  .     85 

He  wore  a    dingy    morning-gown  and    had    laid   aside 
HIS  wig 94 

"Damn  your  King  William,  and  you  too  !"  he  cried     .  log 

He  pressed  the  ring  of  cold  steel     .         .         .         .         -113 

In  the  great  chair  sat  an  elderly  lady  leaning  on  an 
ebony  stick 142 

I  heard  a  light  foot  following  me 156 

With  a  gesture   between   contempt  and  impatience  the 
duke  removed  his  hat 179 

I  flung  my  arms    round  him  from   behind,  and  with  my 
right  hand  jerked  up  the  pistol         .         .        .        .  191 

A  slight   gentleman   ambled  and   paced    in   front    of  a 

child 199 

"  Now  WE  will  have  that  letter,  if  you  please  "         .  225 

I    SAW   A    man    had    come   TO   A    STAND   BEFORE   THE   DOOR         .    230 


viii  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

The    place   was  nothing   more  than  a   concealed   cup- 
board        ..........  255 

And  turning  from   me,  he  began  to  pace  the  room,  his 
hands  clasped  behind  him 


She  came  a  step  nearer  to  me,  and  peered  at  me  . 

Sir  John    .     .     .     stared  at  me  a  moment 

She  listened   in   silence,  standing   over   me  with  some 
thing  of  the  severity  of  a  judge 

He  shut  himself  in  with  his  trouble 

I  stood  there  at  last    .     .     .     the  faces  at  the  table 
all  turned  towards  me 

She  was  making  marks  on  the  turf  with  a  stick 


281 

304 
321 

347 

366 

397 
406 


SHREWSBURY 


CHAPTER  I 

That  the  untimely  death  at  the  age  of  fifty-eight  of 
that  great  prince,  Charles,  Duke  of  Shrewsbury,  my  most 
noble  and  generous  patron,  has  afflicted  me  with  a  sor- 
row which  I  may  truly  call  acerbus  et  ingens,  is  nothing 
to  the  world;  which  from  one  in  my  situation  could  expect 
no  other,  and,  on  the  briefest  relation  of  the  benefits  I 
had  at  his  hands,  might  look  for  more.  Were  this  all, 
therefore,  or  my  task  confined  to  such  a  relation,  I  should 
supererogate  indeed  in  making  this  appearance.  But  I  am 
informed  that  my  lord  Duke's  death  has  revived  in  cer- 
tain quarters  those  rumours  to  his  prejudice  which  were 
so  industriously  put  about  at  the  time  of  his  first  retire- 
ment; and  which,  refuted  as  they  were  at  the  moment  by 
the  express  declaration  of  his  Sovereign,  and  at  leisure  by 
his  own  behaviour,  as  well  as  by  the  support  which  at  two 
great  crises  he  gave  to  the  Protestant  succession,  formed 
always  a  proof  of  the  malice,  as  now  of  the  persistence, 
of  his  enemies. 

Still,  such  as  tliey  are,  and  though,  not  these  circum- 
stances only,  but  a  thousand  others  have  time  after  time 
exposed  them,  I  am  instructed  that  they  are  again  afloat; 
and  find  favour  in  circles  where  to  think  ill  of  public  men 
is  held  the  first  test  of  experience.     And  this  being  the 


3  SHREWSBURY 

case,  and  my  affection  for  my  lord  such  as  is  natural,  I 
perceive  a  clear  duty.  I  do  not  indeed  suppose  that  any- 
one can  at  this  time  of  day  effect  that  which  the  sense  of 
all  good  men  failed  to  effect  while  he  lived — I  mean  the 
final  killing  of  those  rumours;  nor  is  a  plain  tale  likely 
to  persuade  those,  with  whom  idle  reports,  constantly  fur- 
bished up,  of  letters  seen  in  France,  weigh  more  than  a 
consistent  life.  But  my  lord's  case  is  now,  as  I  take  it, 
removed  to  the  Appeal  Court  of  Posterity;  which  never- 
theless, a  lie  constantly  iterated  may  mislead.  To  pro- 
vide somewhat  to  correct  this,  and  wherefrom  future  his- 
torians may  draw,  I  who  knew  him  well,  and  was  in  his 
confidence  and  in  a  manner  in  his  employment  at  the  time 
of  Sir  John  Fenwick's  case — of  which  these  calumnies 
were  always  compact — propose  to  set  down  my  evidence 
here;  shrinking  from  no  fulness,  at  times  even  venturing 
on  prolixity,  and  always  remembering  a  saying  of  Lord 
Somers',  that  often  the  most  material  part  of  testimony 
is  that  on  which  the  witness  values  himself  least.  To 
adventure  on  this  fulness,  which  in  the  case  of  many,  and 
perhaps  the  bulk  of  writers,  might  issue  in  the  surfeit  of 
their  readers,  I  feel  myself  emboldened  by  the  possession 
of  a  brief  and  concise  manner  of  writing;  which,  acquired 
in  the  first  place  in  the  circumstances  presently  to  appear, 
was  later  improved  by  constant  practice  in  the  composition 
of  my  lord's  papers. 

And  here  some  will  expect  me  to  proceed  at  once  to  the 
events  of  the  year  1696,  in  which  Sir  John  suffered,  or  at 
least  1695.  But  softly,  and  a  little  if  you  please  ah  ovo  ; 
still  the  particulars  which  enabled  my  lord's  enemies  to 
place  a  sinister  interpretation  on  his  conduct  in  those  years 
had  somewhat,  and,  alas,  too  much,  to  do  with  me.  There- 
fore, before  I  can  clear  the  matter  up  from  every  point  of 
view,  I  am  first  to  say  who  I  am,  and  how  I  came  to  fall 
in  the  way  of  that  great  man  and  gain  his  approbation ; 
with  other  preliminary  matters,  relating  to  myself,  whereof 


SHREWSBURY  3 

some  do  not  please  at  this  distance,  and  yet  must  be  set 
down,  if  with  a  wry  face. 

Of  which,  I  am  glad  to  say,  that  the  worst — with  one 
exception — comes  first,  or  at  least  early.  And  with  that, 
to  proceed;  premising  always  that,  as  in  all  that  follows 
I  am  no  one,  and  the  tale  is  my  lord's,  I  shall  deal  very 
succinctly  with  my  own  concerns  and  chancings,  and 
where  I  mnst  state  them  for  clearness  of  narration,  will 
do  so  aurrente  calamo  (as  the  aiicients  were  wont  to  say), 
and  so  forthwith  to  those  more  important  matters  with 
which  my  readers  desire  to  be  made  acquainted. 

Suffice  it,  then,  that  I  was  born  near  Bishop's  Stortford, 
on  the  borders  of  Hertfordshire,  in  that  year  so  truly 
called  the  Annus  Mirabilis,  IGGG;  my  father,  a  small 
yeoman,  my  mother  of  no  better  stock,  she  being  the 
daughter  of  a  poor  parson  in  that  neighbourhood.  In 
such  a  station  she  was  not  likely  to  boast  much  learning, 
yet  she  could  read,  and  having  served  two  years  in  a  great 
man's  still-room,  had  acquired  notions  of  gentility  that 
went  as  ill  with  her  station  as  they  were  little  calculated 
to  increase  her  contentment.  Our  house  lay  not  far  from 
the  high  road  between  Ware  and  Bishop's  Stortford, 
which  furnished  us  with  frequent  opportunities  of  view- 
ing the  King  and  Court,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  passing 
that  way  two  or  three  times  in  the  year  to  Newmarket  to 
see  the  horse-races.  On  these  occasions  we  crowded  with 
our  neighbours  to  the  side  of  the  road,  and  gaped  on  the 
pageant,  which  lacked  no  show  of  ladies,  both  masked 
and  unmasked,  and  gentlemen  in  all  kinds  of  fripperies, 
and  mettlesome  horses  that  hit  the  taste  of  some  among 
us  better  than  either.  On  these  excursions  my  mother 
was  ever  the  foremost  and  the  most  ready;  yet  it  was  not 
long  before  I  learned  to  beware  of  her  hand  for  days  after, 
and  expect  none  but  gloomy  looks  and  fretful  answers; 
while  my  father  dared  no  more  spell  duty  for  as  much  as 
a  week,  than  refuse  the  King's  taxes. 


4  SHEEWSBUJiY 

Nevertlieless,  and  whatever  she  was  as  a  wife— and  it  is 
true  she  could  ding  my  father's  ears,  and,  for  as  handsome 
as  she  was,  there  were  times  when  he  would  have  been 
happier  with  a  plainer  woman— I  am  far  from  saying  that 
she  was  a  bad  mother.  Indeed,  she  was  a  kind,  if  fickle, 
and  passionate  one,  wiser  at  large  and  in  intention  than 
in  practice  and  in  small  matters.  Yet  if  for  one  thing 
only,  and  putting  aside  natural  affection— in  which  I  trust 
I  am  not  deficient — she  deserved  to  be  named  by  me  with 
undying  gratitude.  For  having  learned  to  read,  but 
never  to  write,  beyond,  that  is,  the  trifle  of  her  maiden 
name,  she  valued  scholarship  both  by  that  she  had,  and 
that  she  had  not;  and  in  the  year  after  I  was  breeched, 
prevailed  on  my  father  who,  for  his  part,  good  man,  never 
advanced  beyond  the  ISTeck  Verse,  to  bind  me  to  the 
ancient  Grammar  School  at  Bishop's  Stortford,  then 
kept  by  a  Mr.  G . 

I  believe  that  there  were  some  who  thought  this  as  much 
beyond  our  pretensions,  as  our  small  farm  fell  below  the 
homestead  of  a  man  of  substance;  and  for  certain,  the 
first  lesson  I  learned  at  that  school  was  to  behave  myself 
lowly  and  reverently  to  all  my  betters,  being  trounced  on 
arrival  by  three  squires'  sons,  and  afterwards,  in  due  order 
and  gradation,  by  all  who  had  or  affected  gentility.  To 
balance  this  I  found  that  I  had  the  advantage  of  my  mas- 
ter's favour,  and  that  for  no  greater  a  thing  than  the  tinge 
of  ray  father's  opinions.  For  whereas  the  commonalfey  in 
that  country,  as  in  all  the  eastern  counties,  had  been  for 
the  Parliament  in  the  late  troubles,  and  still  loved  a  pa- 
triot, my  father  was  a  King's  man  ;  which  placed  him 

high  in  Mr.  G 's  estimation,  who  had  been  displaced 

by  the  Rump  and  hated  all  of  that  side,  and  not  for  the 
loss  of  his  place  only,  but,  aud  in  a  far  greater  degree, 
for  a  thing  which  befell  him  later,  after  he  had  withdrawn 
to  Oxford.  For  being  of  St.  John's  College,  and  seeing 
all  that  rich  and  loyal  foundation  at  stake,  he  entered 


SHREWSBURY  5 

himself  in  a  body  of  liorse  which  was  raised  among  the 
younger  collegians  and  servants;  and  probably  if  he  had 
been  so  lucky  as  to  lose  an  eye  or  an  arm  in  the  field  of 
honour,  he  would  have  forgiven  Oliver  all,  and  not  the 
King's  sufferings  only,  but  his  own.  But  in  place  of 
that  it  was  his  ill-chance  to  be  one  of  a  troop  that, 
marching  at  night  by  the  river  near  Walliugford,  took 
fright  at  nothing  and  galloped  to  Abingdon  without 
drawing  rein;  for  which  reason,  and  because  an  example 
was  needed,  they  were  disbanded.  True,  I  never  heard 
that  the  fault  on  that  occasion  lay  with  our  master,  nor 
that  he  was  a  man  of  less  courage  than  his  neighbours;  but 
he  took  the  matter  peculiarly  to  heart,  and  never  forgave 
the  Roundheads  the  slur  they  had  unwittingly  cast  on  his 
honour;  on  the  contrary,  and  in  the  event,  he  regularly 
celebrated  the  thirtieth  of  January  by  flogging  the  six 
boys  who  stood  lowest  in  each  form,  and  afterwards  read- 
ing the  service  of  the  day  over  their  smarting  tails.  By 
some,  indeed,  it  was  alleged  that  the  veriest  dunces,  if  of 
loyal  stock,  might  look  to  escape  on  these  occasions;  but 
I  treat  this  as  a  calumny. 

That  the  good  man  did  in  truth  love  and  favour  loyalty, 
hoAvever,  and  this  without  sparing  the  rod  in  season,  I  am 
myself  a  bright  and  excellent  example.  For  though  I 
never  attained  to  the  outward  flower  of  scholarship  by 
proceeding  to  the  learned  degree  of  arts  at  either  of  the 
Universities,  I  gained  the  root  and  kernel  of  the  matter 
at  Bishop's  Stortford,  being  able  at  the  age  of  fourteen  to 
write  a  fine  hand,  and  read  Eutropius,  and  Caesar,  and 
teach  the  horn-book  and  Christ- Cross  to  younger  boys. 
These  attainments,  and  the  taste  for  polite  learning, 
which,  as  these  pages  will  testify,  I  have  never  ceased  to 
cultivate,  I  owe  rather  to  the  predilection  which  he  had 
for  me  than  to  my  own  gifts;  which,  indeed,  though 
doubtless  I  was  always  a  boy  of  parts,  I  do  not  remember 
to  have  been  great  at  the  first.     Suhferuld,  however,  and 


6  SHREWSBURY 

with  encouragement,  I  so  far  advanced  that  he  presently 
began  to  consider  tlie  promoting  me  to  tlie  place  of  usher, 
Avith  a  cane  in  commendam  ;  and,  doubtless,  he  would 
have  done  it  but  for  a  fit  that  took  him  at  the  first  news 
of  the  Eye  House  Plot,  and  the  danger  his  Sacred  Majesty 
had  run  thereby — which  a  friend  imprudently  brought  to 
him  when  he  was  merry  after  dinner — and  which  caused 
an  illness  that  at  one  and  the  same  time  carried  him  off, 
and  deprived  me  of  the  best  of  pedagogues. 

After  that,  and  learning  that  his  successor  had  a  son 
whom  he  proposed  to  promote  to  the  place  I  desired,  I 
returned  to  the  school  no  more,  but  began  to  live  at  home; 
at  first  with  pleasure,  but  after  no  long  interval  with 
growing  chagrin  and  tedium.  Our  house  possessed  none 
of  the  comforts  that  are  necessary  to  idleness,  and  there- 
fore when  the  east  wind  drove  me  indoors  from  swinging 
on  the  gate,  or  sulking  in  the  stack-yard,  I  found  it 
neither  welcome  nor  occupation.  My  younger  brother 
had  seized  on  the  place  of  assistant  to  my  father,  and 
having  got  thews  and  experience  amhulanclo,  found  fresh 
ground  every  day  for  making  mock  of  my  uselessness. 
Did  I  milk,  the  cows  kicked  over  the  bucket,  while  I 
thought  of  other  things;  did  I  plough,  my  furrows  ran 
crooked;  when  I  thrashed,  the  flail  soon  wearied  my 
arms.  In  the  result,  therefore,  the  i-esjiect  with  which 
my  father  had  at  first  regarded  my  learning,  wore  off, 
and  he  grew  to  hate  the  sight  of  me  whether  I  hung  over 
the  fire  or  loafed  in  the  doorway,  my  sleeves  too  short  for 
my  chapped  arms,  and  my  breeches  barely  to  my  knees. 
Though  my  mother  still  believed  in  me,  and  occasionally, 
when  she  was  in  an  ill-humour  with  my  father,  made  me 
read  to  her,  her  support  scarcely  balanced  the  neighbours' 
sneers.  Nor  when  I  chanced  to  displease  her — which,  to 
do  her  justice,  was  not  often,  for  I  was  her  favourite — was 
she  above  joining  in  the  general  cry,  and  asking  me,  while 
she  cufEed  me,  whether  I  thought  the  cherries  fell  into 


SHREWSBURY  7 

the  mouth,  and  meant  to  spend  all  my  life  with  my  hands 
in  my  jDockets. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  at  the  end  of  twelve  months, 
whereof  every  day  of  the  last  ten  increased  my  hatred  of 
our  home  surroundings,  the  dull  strip  of  common  before 
the  door,  the  duck-i^ond,  the  grey  horizon,  and  the  twin 
ash-trees  on  which  I  had  cut  my  name  so  often,  I  heard 
through  a  neighbour  that  an  usher  was  required  in  a  school 
at  Ware.  This  was  enough  for  me;  while,  of  my  family, 
who  saw  me  leave  with  greater  relief  on  their  own  account 
than  hope  on  mine,  only  my  mother  felt  or  affected  regret. 
With  ten  shillings  in  my  pocket,  her  parting  gift,  and  my 
scanty  library  of  tliree  volumes  packed  among  my  clothes 
on  my  back,  I  plodded  the  twelve  miles  to  Ware,  satisfied 

the  learned  Mr.  D that  I  had  had  the  small-pox,  would 

sleep  three  in  a  bed,  and  knew  more  than  he  did;  and  the 
same  day  was  duly  engaged  to  teach  in  his  classical  semi- 
nary, in  return  for  my  board,  lodging,  washing,  and  nine 
guineas  a  year. 

He  had  trailed  a  pike  in  the  wars,  and  was  an  ignorant, 
but  neither  a  cruel,  nor,  save  in  the  pretence  of  knowl- 
edge, a  dishonest  man;  it  might  be  supposed,  therefore, 
that,  after  the  taste  of  idleness  and  dependence  I  had 
had,  I  should  here  find  myself  tolerably  j^laced,  and  in 
the  fair  way  of  promotion.  But  I  presently  found  that  I 
had  merely  exchanged  a  desert  for  a  prison,  wherein  I  had 
not  only  the  shepherding  of  the  boys  to  do,  both  by  night 
and  day,  which  in  a  short  time  grew  inconceivably  irk- 
some, so  that  I  had  to  choose  whether  I  would  be  tyrant 
or  slave;  but  also  the  main  weight  of  teaching,  and  there 
no  choice  at  all  but  to  be  a  drudge.  And  this  without 
any  alleviation  from  week's  end  to  week's  end,  either  at 
meals  or  at  any  other  time!  for  my  employer's  wife  had 
high  notions,  and  must  keep  a  separate  house,  though 
next  door,  and  with  communications;  sitting  down  with 
us  only  on  Sundays,  and  then  at  dinner,  when  woe  betide 


8  SHREWSBURY 

the  boy  who  gobbled  his  food  or  choked  over  the  pudding- 
balls.  Having  satisfied  herself  on  my  first  coming  that 
my  father  was  neither  of  the  Quorum  nor  of  Justice's 
kin,  and,  in  fact,  a  mere  rustic  nobody,  she  had  no  more 
to  say  to  me,  but  when  she  was  not  scolding  her  husband, 
addressed  herself  solely  to  one  of  the  boys,  who  by  virtue 
of  an  uncle  who  was  a  Canon,  had  his  seat  beside  her. 
Insensibly,  her  husband,  who  at  first,  with  an  eye  to  my 
knowledge  and  his  own  deficiencies,  had  been  more  civil 
to  me,  took  the  same  tone;  and  not  only  that,  but,  find- 
ing that  I  was  to  be  trusted,  he  came  less  and  less  into 
school,  until  at  last  he  would  only  appear  for  a  few  min- 
utes in  the  day,  and  to  carve  when  we  had  meat,  and  to 
see  the  lights  extinguished  at  night.  This  without  any 
added  value  for  me;  so  that  the  better  I  served  him — and 
for  a  year  I  managed  his  school  for  him — the  less  he 
favoured  me,  and  at  last  thought  a  nod  all  the  converse 
he  owed  me  in  the  day. 

Consigned  to  this  solitary  life  by  those  above  me,  it  was 
not  likely  that  I  should  find  compensation  in  the  society 
of  lads  to  whom  I  stood  in  an  odious  light,  and  of  whom 
the  oldest  was  no  more  than  fourteen.  For  what  was  our 
life  ?  Such  hours  as  we  did  not  spend  in  the  drudgery  of 
school,  or  in  our  beds,  we  joassed  in  a  yard  on  the  dank 
side  of  the  house,  a  grassless  place,  muddy  in  winter  and 
dusty  in  summer,  overshadowed  by  one  skeleton  tree;  and 
wherein,  since  all  violent  games  and  sports  were  forbidden 
by  the  good  lady's  scruples  (who  belonged  to  the  fanatical 
party)  as  savouring  of  Poj^ery,  we  had  perforce  to  occupy 
ourselves  with  bickerings  and  complaints  and  childish 
plays.  Abutting  on  the  garden  of  her  house,  this  yard 
presented  on  its  one  open  side  a  near  prospect  of  water- 
butts,  and  drying  clothes,  so  that  to  this  day  I  profess 
that  I  hold  it  in  greater  horror  than  any  other  place  or 
thing  at  that  school. 

It  is  true  we  walked  out  in  the  country  at  rare  inter- 


SHREWSBURY  9 

vals;  but  as  three  sides  of  the  town  were  forbidden  to  ns 
by  a  great  man,  Avhose  projoerty  lay  in  that  quarter,  and 
who  feared  for  his  game,  our  excursions  were  always  along 
one  road,  which  afforded  neither  change  nor  variety. 
Moreover,  I  had  a  particular  reason  for  liking  these  excur- 
sions as  little  as  possible,  which  was  that  they  exposed  me 
to  frequent  meetings  with  gay  young  sparks  of  my  own 
age,  whose  scornful  looks  as  they  rode  by,  with  the  con- 
temptuous iiames  they  called  after  me,  asking  who  dressed 
the  boys'  hair  and  the  like,  I  found  it  difficult  to  support 
— even  with  the  aid  of  those  reflections  on  the  dignity  of 
learning  and  the  Latin  tongue  which  I  had  imbibed  from 
my  late  master. 

Be  it  remembered  (in  palliation  of  that  which  I  shall 
presently  tell)  that  at  this  time  I  was  only  eighteen,  an 
age  at  which  the  passions  and  ambitions  awake,  and  that 
this  was  my  life.  At  a  time  when  youth  demands  change 
and  excitement  and  the  fringe  of  ornament,  my  days  and 
weeks  went  by  in  a  plain  round,  as  barren  of  wholesome 
interests  as  it  was  unadorned  by  any  kindly  aid  or  com- 
panionship. To  rise,  to  teach,  to  use  the  cane,  to  move 
always  in  a  dull  atmosphere  of  routine;  for  diversion  to 
pace  the  yard  I  have  described,  always  with  shrill  quarrel- 
lings  in  my  ears — these  wi  th  the  weekly  walk  made  up  my 
life  at  Ware,  and  must  form  my  excuse.  How  the  one 
came  to  an  abrupt  end,  how  I  came  to  have  sore  need  of 
the  other,  it  is  now  my  business  to  tell;  but  of  these  in 
the  next  chapter;  wherein  also  I  propose  to  show,  without 
any  moralities,  another  thing  that  shall  prove  them  to  the 
purpose,  namely,  how  these  early  experiences,  which  I 
have  thus  curtly  described,  led  me  j!;er  via7n  dolorosam  to 
my  late  lord,  and  mingled  my  fortunes  with  his,  under 
circumstances  not  unworthy  of  examination  by  those  who 
take  mankind  for  their  study. 


10  SHREWSBURY 


CHAPTER  II 


To  begin,  Mrs.  D ,  my  master's  better-half,  though 

she  seldom  condescended  to  our  house,  and  when  engaged 
in  her  kitchen  premises  affected  to  ignore  the  proximity 
of  ours,  enjoyed  in  Ware  the  reputation  of  a  shrewd  and 
capable  house-wife.  Whether  she  owed  this  solely  to  the 
possession  of  a  sharp  temper  and  voluble  voice,  I  cannot 
say;  but  only  that  during  all  the  time  I  was  there  I 
scarcely  ever  passed  an  hour  in  our  miserable  playground 
without  my  ears  being  deafened  and  my  brain  irritated 
by  the  sound  of  her  chiding.  She  had  the  advantage, 
when  I  first  came  to  the  school,  of  an  elderly  servant, 
who  went  about  her  work  under  an  even  flow  of  scolding, 
and,  it  may  be,  had  become  so  accustomed  to  the  infliction 
as  to  be  neither  the  better  nor  worse  for  it.  But  about 
the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  when,  as  I  have  said, 
I  had  been  there  twelve  months,  I  remarked  a  change 

in  Mrs.   D 's  voice,  and  judged  from  the  increased 

acerbity  and  rising  shrillness  of  her  tone  that  she  had 
passed  from  drilling  an  old  servant  to  informing  a  new 
one.  To  confirm  this  theory,  before  long,  "  Lazy  slut!  " 
and  "Dirty  baggage!"  and  "Take  that.  Insolence," 
were  the  best  of  the  terms  I  heard;  and  these  so  fre- 
quently mingled  Avith  blows  and  slaps,  and  at  times  with 
the  sound  of  sobbing,  that  my  gall  rose.  I  had  listened 
indifferently  enough,  and  if  with  irritation,  without  much 
pain,  to  the  chiding  of  the  old  servant;  and  I  knew  no 
more  of  this  one.     But  by  the  instinct  which  draws  youth 

to  youth,  or  by  reason  of  Mrs.  D 's  increased  severity, 

I  began  to  feel  for  her,  to  pity  her,  and  at  last  to  wonder 
what  she  was  like,  and  her  age,  and  so  forth. 

Nothing  more  formidable  than  a  low  paling  separated 
the  garden  of  Mrs.   D 's  house  from  our  yard;  but 


SHREWSBURY  11 

that  her  eyes  might  not  be  offended  by  the  ignoble  sight 
of  the  trade  by  which  she  lived,  four  great  water-butts 
were  ranked  along  the  fence,  which,  being  as  tall  as  a 
man,  and  nicely  arranged,  and  strengthened  on  the  inner 
side  by  an  accumulation  of  rubbish  and  so  forth,  formed 
a  pretty  effective  screen.  The  boys  indeed  had  their  spy- 
holes, and  were  in  the  habit  of  peeping  when  I  did  not 
check  them;  but  in  only  one  place,  at  the  corner  farthest 
from  the  house,  was  it  possible  to  see  by  accident,  as  it 
were,  and  without  stooping  or  manifest  prying,  a  small 
patch  of  the  garden.    This  gap  in  the  corner  I  had  hitherto 

shunned,  for  Mrs.  D had  more  than  once  sent  me 

from  it  with  a  flea  in  my  ear  and  hot  cheeks:  now,  how- 
ever, it  became  a  favourite  with  me,  and  as  far  as  I  could, 
without  courting  the  notice  of  the  wretched  urchins  who 
whined  and  squabbled  round  me,  I  began  to  frequent  it ; 
sometimes  leaning  against  the  abutting  fence  with  my 
back  to  the  house,  as  in  a  fit  of  abstraction,  and  then 
slowly  turning — when  I  did  not  fail  to  rake  the  aforesaid 
patch  with  my  eyes;  and  sometimes  taking  that  corner 
for  the  limit  of  a  brisk  walk  to  and  fro,  which  made  it 
natural  to  pause  and  wheel  at  that  point. 

Notwithstanding  these  ruses,  however,  and  though  Mrs. 

D 's  voice,  raised   in  anger,  frequently  bore  witness 

to  her  neighbourhood,  it  was  some  time  before  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  person,  whose  fate,  more  doleful  than 
mine,  yet  not  dissimilar,  had  awakened  my  interest.  At 
length  I  espied  her,  slowly  crossing  the  garden,  with  her 
back  to  me  and  a  yoke  on  her  shoulders.  Two  pails  hung 
from  the  yoke,  I  smelled  swill ;  and  in  a  trice  seeing  in 
her  no  more  than  a  wretched  drab,  in  clogs  and  a  coarse 
sacking-apron,  I  felt  my  philanthropy  brought  to  the  test; 
and  without  a  second  glance  turned  away  in  disgust. 
And  thought  no  more  of  her. 

After  that  I  took  a  distaste  for  the  gap,  and  I  do  not 
remember  that  I  visited  it  for  a  week  or  more;  when,  at 


12  SHREWSBURY 

length,  chance  or  custom  taking  me  there  again,  I  saw 
the  same  woman  hanging  clothes  on  the  line.  She  had 
her  back  to  me  as  on  the  former  occasion;  but  this  time  I 
lingered  watching  her,  and  whether  she  knew  or  not  that 
I  was  there,  her  work  presently  brought  her  towards  the 
place  in  the  fence  beside  the  water-barrels,  at  which  I 
stood  gazing.  Still,  I  could  not  see  her  face,  in  part  be- 
cause she  did  not  turn  my  way,  and  more  because  she  wore 
a  dirty  limp  sun-bonnet,  which  obscured  her  features. 
But  I  continued  to  watch;  and  by-aud-by  she  had 
finished  her  hanging,  and  took  up  the  emjjty  basket  to 
go  in  again;  and  thereon,  suddenly  in  the  act  of  rising 
from  stooping,  she  looked  directly  at  me,  not  being 
more  than  two,  or  at  the  most  three,  paces  from  me.  It 
was  but  one  look,  and  it  lasted,  I  suppose,  two  seconds 
or  so;  but  it  touched  sometliing  in  me  that  had  never 
been  touched  before,  and  to  this  time  of  writing,  and 
though  I  have  been  long  married  and  have  children,  my 
body  burns  at  the  remembrance  of  it.  For  not  only  was 
the  face  that  for  those  two  seconds  looked  into  mine  a  face 
of  rare  beauty,  brown  and  low-browed,  with  scarlet, 
laughing  lips,  and  milk-white  teeth,  and  eyes  of  witch- 
ery, brighter  than  a  queen's  jewels,  but  in  the  look,  short 
as  it  was  and  passing,  shone  a  something  that  I  had  never 
seen  in  a  woman's  face  before,  a  something,  God  knows 
what,  appeal  or  passion  or  temptation,  that  on  the  instant 
fired  my  blood.  I  suppose,  nay,  I  know  now,  that  the 
face  that  flashed  that  look  at  me  from  under  the  dirty 
sun-bonnet  could  change  to  a  marvel;  and  in  a  minute, 
and  as  by  a  miracle,  become  dull  and  almost  ugly,  or  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  world.  But  then,  that  and  all  such 
things  were  new  to  me  who  knew  no  women,  and  had 
never  spoken  to  a  woman  in  the  way  of  love  nor  thought 
of  one  when  her  back  was  turned;  so  new,  that  when  it 
was  over  and  she  gone  without  a  second  glance,  I  went 
back  to  the  house  another  man,  my  heart  thumping  in 


SHREWSBURY 


13 


my  breast,  and  my  cheeks  burning,  and  my  whole  being 
oppressed  with  desire  and  bashfulness  and  wonder  and 
curiosity,  and  a  hundred  other  emotions  that  would  not 


!-^-      -  V   . 


SHE   LOOKED    DIRECTLY    AT   ME 


permit  me  to  be  at  ease  until  I  had  hidden  myself  from 
all  eyes. 

Well,  to  be  brief,  that,  in  less  than  the  time  I  have 

taken  to  tell  it,  changed  all.  I  was  eighteen;  the  girl's 


14  SHREWSBURY 

shining  eyes  burned  me  up,  as  flame  burns  stubble.  In 
an  hour,  a  week,  a  day,  I  can  no  more  say  within  what 
time  than  I  can  describe  what  befel  me  before  I  was  born 
— for  if  that  was  a  sleeping,  this  was  a  dream,  and  passed 
swift  and  confused  as  one  — I  was  madly  and  desperately 
in  love.  Her  face  brilliant,  mischievous,  alluring,  rose 
before  the  thumbed  grammar  by  day,  and  the  dim  case- 
ment of  the  fetid,  crowded  bedroom  by  night,  and  filled 
the  slow,  grey  dawnings,  now  with  joy  and  now  with 
despair.  For  the  time,  I  thought  only  of  her,  lived  for 
her,  did  my  work  in  dreams  of  her.  I  kej)t  no  count  of 
time,  I  gave  no  heed  to  what  passed  round  me;  but  I 
went  through  the  routine  of  my  miserable  life,  happy  as 
the  slave  that,  rich  in  the  possession  of  some  beneficent 
drug,  defies  the  pains  of  labour  and  the  lash.  I  say  my 
miserable  life;  but  I  say  it,  so  great  was  the  change,  in  a 

figure  only  and  in  retrospect.     Mrs.  D might  scorn 

me  now,  and  the  boys  squabble  round  me,  yet  that  life 
was  no  longer  miserable  nor  dull,  whereof  every  morning 
flattered  me  with  hopes  of  seeing  my  mistress,  and  every 
third  day  or  so  fulfilled  the  jDromise. 

"With  all  this,  and  though  from  the  moment  her  eyes 
met  mine  across  the  fence,  her  beauty  possessed  me  utterly, 
a  full  fortnight  elapsed  before  I  spoke  with  her.  In  the 
interval  I  saw  her  three  times,  and  always  in  the  wretched 
guise  in  which  she  had  first  appeared  to  me;  which,  so 
far  from  checking  my  passion,  now  augmented  it  by  the 
full  measure  of  the  mystery  with  which  the  sordidness  of 
her  dress,  in  contrast  with  her  beauty,  invested  her  in  my 
mind.  But,  for  s^^eaking  with  her,  that  was  another  mat- 
ter, and  one  presenting  so  many  difficulties  (whereof,  as 

the   boys'   constant  presence  and  Mrs.    D 's   temper 

were  the  greatest,  so  my  bashf  ulness  was  not  the  least) 
that  I  think  we  might  have  gone  another  fortnight,  and 
perhaps  a  third  to  that,  and  not  come  to  it,  had  not  a  cer- 
tain privilege  on  which  Mr.  D 's  good  lady  greatly 


SHREWSBURY  15 

jirided  herself,  come  to  our  aid  in  the  nick  of  time,  and 
by  bringing  us  into  the  same  room  (a  thing  which  had 
never  occurred  before,  and  of  itself  threw  me  into  a  fever) 
combined  with  fortune  to  aid  my  hopes. 

This  privilege — so  Mrs.  D invariably  styled  it — was 

the  solemn  gathering  of  the  household  on  one  Sunday  in 
each  month  to  listen  to  a  discourse  which,  her  husband 
sitting. meekly  by,  she  read  to  us  from  the  works  of  some 
Independent  divine.  On  these  occasions  she  delivered 
herself  so  sonorously  and  with  so  much  gusto,  that  I  do 
not  doubt  she  found  compensation  in  them  for  the  tedium 
of  the  sermon  on  Passive  Obedience,  or  on  the  fate  of  the 
Amalekite,  to  which,  in  compliance  with  the  laws  against 
Dissent,  she  had  perforce  listened  earlier  in  the  day. 
The  master  and  mistress  and  the  servant  sat  on  one  side 
of  the  room,  I  with  the  boys  on  the  other;  and  hitherto 
I  am  unable  to  say  which  of  us  had  suffered  more  under 
the  infliction.  But  the  ap2:)earance  of  my  sweet  martyr 
— so,  when  Madam's  voice  rang  shrillest  and  most  angrily 
over  the  soapsuds,  I  had  come  to  think  of  her — in  a  place 
behind  her  master  and  mistress  (being  the  same  in  which 
the  old  servant  had  nodded  and  grunted  every  sermon 
evening  since  my  coming),  put  a  new  complexion  on  the 
matter.  For  her,  she  entered,  as  if  unconscious  of  my 
presence,  and  took  her  seat  with  downcast  eyes  and  hands 
folded,  and  that  dull  look  on  her  face  which,  when  she 
chose,  veiled  three-fourths  of  its  beauty.  But  my  ears 
flamed,  and  the  blood  surged  to  my  head;  and  I  thought 
that  all  must  read  my  secret  in  my  face. 

With  Mrs.  D ,  however,  this  was  the  one  hour  in 

the  month  when  the  suspicions  natural  in  one  of  her  carp- 
ing temper,  slept,  and  she  tasted  a  pleasure  comparatively 
pure.  Majestically  arrayed  in  a  huge  pair  of  spectacles 
— which  on  this  occasion,  and  in  the  character  of  the 
family  priest,  her  vanity  permitted  and  even  incited  her 
to   wear — and   provided   with    a    couple   of    tall   tallow 


16  SHREWSBURY 

candles,  which  it  was  her  husband's  duty  to  snuff,  she 
would  open  the  dreaded  quarto  and  prop  it  firmly  on  the 
table  before  her.  Then,  after  giving  out  her  text  in  a 
tone  that  need  not  have  disgraced  Hugh  Peters  or  the 
most  famous  preacher  of  her  persuasion,  it  was  her  cus- 
tom to  lift  her  eyes  and  look  round  to  assure  herself  that 
all  was  cringing  attention ;  and  this  was  the  trying  moment; 
woe  to  the  boy  whose  gaze  wandered — his  back  would 
smart  for  it  before  he  slept.  These  preliminaries  at  an 
end,  however,  and  the  discourse  begun,  the  danger  was 
over  for  the  time;  for,  in  the  voluptuous  roll  of  the  long 
wordy  sentences,  and  the  elections  and  damnations,  and 
free  wills  that  plentifully  bestrewed  them,  she  speedily 
forgot  all  but  the  sound  of  her  own  voice;  and,  nothing 
occurring  to  rouse  her,  might  be  trusted  to  read  for  the 
hour  and  half  with  pleasure  to  herself  and  without  risk 
to  others. 

So  it  fell  out  on  this  occasion.  As  soon,  therefore,  as 
the  steady  droning  of  her  voice  gave  me  courage  to  look 
up,  I  had  before  me  the  same  scene  with  which  a  dozen 
Sunday  evenings  had  made  me  familiar;  the  dull  circle 
of  yellow  light;  within  it  Madam's  horn-rimmed  glasses 
shining  over  the  book,  Avhile  her  finger  industriously 
followed  the  lines;  a  little  behind,  her  husband,  nodding 
and  recovering  himself  by  turns.  Not  now  was  this  all, 
however:  now  I  saw  also  imjirimis,  a  dim  oval  face, 
framed  in  the  background  behind  the  two  old  people;  and 
that,  now  in  shadow  now  in  light,  gleamed  before  my  fas- 
cinated eyes  with  unearthly  beauty.  Once  or  twice,  fear- 
ing to  be  observed,  I  averted  my  gaze  and  looked  else- 
where; guiltily  and  with  hot  temples.  But  always  I 
returned  to  it  again.  And  always,  the  longer  I  let  my 
eyes  dwell  on  the  vision — for  a  vision  it  seemed  in  the 
halo  of  the  candles — and   the   more   monotonous   hung 

the  silence,  broken  only  by  Mrs.  D 's  even  drone,  the 

more  distinctly  the  beautiful  face  stood  out,  and  the  more 


SHREWSBURY  17 

bewitching  and  alluring  appeared  the  red  lips  and  smiling 
eyes  and  dark  clustering  hair,  that  moment  by  moment 
drew  my  heart  from  me,  and  kindled  my  ripening  brain 
and  filled  my  veins  with  fever! 

"Seventhly,  and  under  this  head,  of  the  sin  of 
David!" 

So  Mrs,  D booming  on,  in  hei  deep  voice,  to  all 

seeming  endlessly;  while  the  air  of  the  dingy  white- 
washed room  grew  stale,  and  the  candles  guttered  and 
burned  low,  and  the  boys,  poor  little  wretches,  leaned  on 
one  another's  shoulders  and  sighed,  and  it  was  difficult  to 

say  whether  Mr.  D 's  noddings  or  his  recoveries  went 

nearer  to  breaking  his  neck.  At  last — or  was  it  only  my 
fancy? — I  thought  I  made  out  a  small  brown  hand  gliding 
within  the  circle  of  ligli-t.  Then — or  was  I  dreaming  ? — 
one  of  the  candles  began  to  move;  but  to  move  so  little 
and  so  stealthily,  that  I  could  not  swear  to  it;  nor  ever 

could  have  sworn,  if  Mr.  D 's  wig  had  not  a  moment 

later  taken  fire  with  a  light  flame,  and  a  stench,  and  a 
frizzling  sound,  that  in  a  second  brought  him,  still  half- 
asleep,  but  swearing,  to  his  feet. 

Mrs.  D ,  her  mouth  open,  and  the  volume  lifted, 

halted  in  the  middle  of  a  word,  and  glared  as  if  she  had 
been  shot;  her  surprise  at  the  interruption  so  great — and 
no  wonder — that  she  could  not  for  a  while  find  words. 
But  the  stream  of  her  indignation,  so  checked,  only 
gathered  volume;  and  in  a  few  seconds  broke  forth. 

"  Mr.  D !  "  she  cried,  slamming  the  book  down  on 

the  table.  "You  disgusting  beast!  Do  you  know  that 
the  boys  are  here?" 

"  My  wig  is  on  fire!"  he  cried  for  answer.  He  had 
taken  it  off,  and  now  held  it  at  arm's  length,  looking  at 
it  so  ruefully  that  the  boys,  though  they  knew  the  clanger, 
could  scarcely  restrain  their  laughter. 

"  And  serve  you  right  for  a  weak-kneed  member!  "  his 
wife  answered  in  a  voice  that  made  us  quake.     "  If  you 
2 


18  SHREWSBURY 

had  not  guzzled  at  dinner,  sir,  and  swilled  small  beer  you 
would  have  remained  awake  instead  of  spoiling  a  good 
wig,  and  staining  your  soul!  Ay,  and  causing  these  little 
ones " 


"  I  never  closed  my  eyes!  "  he  declared,  roundly. 

"  Rubbish!  "  she  answered  in  a  tone  that  would  brook 
no  denial.  And  then,  "  Give  the  wig  to  Jennie,  sir!  "  she 
continued,  peremptorily.  "And  put  your  handkerchief 
on  your  head.  It  is  well  that  good  Mr.  Nesbit  does  not 
know  what  language  has  been  used  during  his  discourse; 
it  would  cut  that  excellent  man  to  tlie  heart.  Do  you 
hear,  sir,  give  the  wig  to  Jennie!"  she  screamed.  "A 
handkerchief  is  good  enough  for  profane  swearers  and 
filthy  talkers!     And  too  good!     Too  good,  sir!  " 

He  went  reluctantly  to  obey,  seeing  nothing  for  it;  but 
between  his  anger  and  Jennie's  clumsiness,  the  wig,  in 
passing  from  one  to  the  other,  fell  under  the  table.     This 

caused  Mrs.  D ,  who  was  at  the  end  of  her  patience, 

to  spring  up  in  a  rage,  and  down  went  a  candle.  Nor 
was  this  the  worst;  for  the  grease  in  its  fall  cast  a  trail  of 
hot  drops  on  her  Sunday  gown,  and  in  a  flash  she  was  on 
the  maid  and  had  smacked  her  face  till  the  room  rang. 

"  Take  that,  and  that,  you  clumsy  baggage!  "  she  cried 
in  a  fury,  her  face  crimson.  "  And  that!  And  the  next 
time  you  offer  to  take  a  gentleman's  wig  have  better  man- 
ners. This  will  cost  you  a  year's  wages,  my  fine  madam! 
and  let  me  hear  of  your  stepping  over  the  doorstep  until 
it  is  earned,  and  I  will  have  you  jailed  and  whipped.  Do 
you  hear?  And  you,"  she  continued,  turning  ferociously 
on  her  husband,  ''  swearing  on  the  Lord's  day  like  a 
drunken,  raffling,  God-forsaken  Tantivy!  You  are  not 
much  better!  " 

It  only  remains  in  my  memory  now  as  a  coarse  outburst 
of  vixenish  temper,  made  prominent  by  after  events. 
But  what  I  felt  at  the  moment  I  should  in  vain  try  to 
describe.     At  one  time  I  was  on  the  point  of  springing 


SHREWSBURY  19 

on  the  woman,  and  at  another  all  but  caught  the  sobbing 
girl  in  my  arms  and  challenged  the  world  to  touch  her. 

Fortunately,   Mr.   D ,  now  fully  awakened,  and  the 

more  inclined  to  remember  decency  in  proportion  as  his 
wife  forgot  it,  recalled  me  to  myself  by  sternly  bidding  me 
see  the  boys  to  their  beds. 

Glad  to  escape,  they  needed  no  second  order,  but 
flocked  to  the  door,  and  I  with  them.  In  our  retreat,  it 
was  necessary  for  me  to  pass  close  to  the  shrinking  girl, 

whom  Mrs.  D was  still  abusing  with  all  the  cruelty 

imaginable;  as  I  did  so  I  heard,  or  dreamed  that  I  heard, 
three  words,  breathed  in  the  faintest  possible  whisper.  I 
say,  dreamed  I  heard,  for  the  girl  neither  looked  at  me 
nor  removed  the  apron  from  her  face,  nor  by  abating  her 
sobs  or  any  other  sign  betrayed  that  she  spoke  or  that 
she  was  conscious  of  my  neighbourhood. 

Yet  the  three  words,  "  Garden,  ten  minutes,"  so  gently 
breathed,  that  I  doubted  while  I  heard,  could  only  have 
come  from  her;  and  assured  of  that,  it  will  be  believed 
that  I  found  the  ten  minutes  I  sj^ent  seeing  the  boys  to 
bed  by  the  light  of  one  scanty  rushlight  the  longest  and 
most  tumultuous  I  ever  passed.  If  she  had  not  spoken 
I  should  have  found  it  a  sorry  time,  indeed;  since  the 
moment  the  door  was  closed  behind  me  I  discerned  a 
hundred  reasons  to  be  dissatisfied  with  my  conduct, 
thought  of  a  hundred  things  I  should  have  said,  and  saw 
a  hundred  things  I  should  have  done;  and  stood  a  coward 
convicted.  Now,  however,  all  was  not  over;  I  might 
explain.  I  was  about  to  see  her,  to  speak  with  her,  to 
pour  out  my  indignation  and  pity,  perhaps  to  touch  her 
hand;  and  in  the  delicious  throb  of  fear  and  hope  and 
excitement  with  which  these  anticipations  filled  my  breast, 
I  speedily  forgot  to  regret  what  was  past. 


20  SHREWSBURY 


CHAPTER  III 

Doubtless  there  have  been  men  able  to  boast,  and  with 
truth,  that  they  carried  to  their  first  assignation  with  a 
woman  an  even  pulse.  But  as  I  do  not  presume  to  rank 
myself  among  these,  who  have  been  commonly  men  of 
high  station  (of  whom  my  late  Lord  Eochester  was,  I 
believe,  the  chief  in  my  time),  neither — the  unhappy 
occurrence  which  I  am  in  the  way  to  relate,  notwithstand- 
ing— have  I,  if  I  may  say  so  without  disrespect,  so  little 
heart  as  to  crave  the  reputation.  In  truth,  I  experienced 
that  evening,   as  I  crept  out  of  the  back  door  of  Mr. 

D 's  house,  and  stole  into  the  gloom  of  the  whispering 

garden,  a  full  share  of  the  guilty  feeling  that  goes  with 
secrecy;  and  more  than  my  share  of  the  agitation  of  spirit 
natural  in  one  who  knows  (and  is  new  to  the  thought) 
that  under  cover  of  the  darkness  a  woman  stands  tremb- 
ling and  waiting  for  him.  A  few  paces  from  the  house — 
which  I  could  leave  without  difficulty,  though  at  the  risk 
of  detection — I  glanced  back  to  assure  myself  that  all 
was  still:  then  shivering,  as  much  with  excitement  as  at 
the  chill  greeting  the  night  air  gave  me,  I  hastened  to  the 
gap  in  the  fence,  through  which  I  had  before  seen  my 
mistress. 

I  felt  for  the  gap  Avitli  my  hand  and  peered  through  it, 
and  called  her  name  softly — "Jennie!  Jennie!"  and 
listened;  and  after  an  interval  called  again,  more  boldly. 
Still  hearing  nothing,  I  discovered  by  the  sinking  at  my 
heart  — which  was  such  that,  for  all  my  eighteen  years,  I 
could  have  sat  down  and  cried — how  much  I  had  built  on 
her  coming.  And  I  called  again  and  again;  and  still  got 
no  answer. 

Yet  I  did  not  despair.     Mrs.  D might  have  kept 

her,  or  one  of  a  hundred  things  might  have  happened  to 


IN   AN    INSTANT    I    WAS    ON    THE    OTHER    SIDE    OF   THE    FENCE 


SB:Fti:WSBriiY  23 

delay  her;  from  one  cause  or  another  she  might  not  have 
been  able  to  slip  out  as  quickly  as  she  had  thought.  She 
might  come  yet ;  and  so,  though  the  more  prolonged  my 
absence,  the  greater  risk  of  detection  I  ran,  I  composed 
myself  to  wait  with  what  patience  I  might.  The  town 
was  quiet;  human  noise  at  an  end  for  the  day;  but  Mr. 

D 's  school  stood  on  the  outskirts,  with  its  back  to 

the  open  country,  and  between  the  sighing  of  the  wind 
among  the  poplars,  and  the  murmur  of  a  neighbouring 
brook,  and  those  far-off  noises  that  seem  inseparable  from 
the  night,  I  had  stood  a  minute  or  more  before  another 
sound,  differing  from  all  these,  and  having  its  origin  at  a 
spot  much  nearer  to  me,  caught  my  ear,  and  set  my  heart 
beating.  It  was  the  noise  of  a  woman  weeping;  and  to 
this  day  I  do  not  know  precisely  what  I  did  on  hearing  it 
— when  I  made  out  what  it  was,  I  mean — or  how  I  found 
courage  to  do  it;  onlv,  that  in  an  instant,  as  it  seemed  to 
me,  I  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence,  and  had  taken 
the  girl  in  my  arms,  with  her  head  on  my  shoulder,  and 
her  wet  eyes  looking  into  mine,  while  I  rained  kisses  on 
her  face. 

Doubtless  the  darkness  and  her  grief  and  my  passion 
gave  me  boldness  to  do  this;  and  to  do  a  hundred  other 
mad  things  in  my  ecstasy.  For,  as  I  had  never  spoken 
to  her  before,  any  more  than  I  had  ever  held  a  woman  in 
my  arms  before,  so  I  had  not  thought,  I  had  not  dreamed 
of  this  I  of  her  hand,  perhaps,  but  no  more.  Therefore, 
and  though  since  Adam's  time  the  stars  have  looked  down 
on  many  a  lover's  raptures,  never,  I  verily  believe,  have 
they  gazed  on  transports  so  perfect,  so  unlooked  for,  as 
were  mine  at  that  moment  I  And  all  the  time  not  a  word 
passed  between  us;  but  after  a  while  she  pushed  me  from 
her,  with  a  kind  of  force  that  would  not  be  resisted,  and 
holding  me  at  arm's  length,  looked  at  me  strangely;  and 
then  thrusting  me  altogether  from  her,  she  bade  me, 
almost  rouffhlv,  go  back. 


24  SHREWSBURY 

"What?  And  lecave  you?"  I  cried,  astonished  and 
heart-broken. 

"No,  sir,  but  go  to  the  other  side  of  the  fence,"  she 
answered  firmly,  drying  her  eyes  and  recovering  some- 
thing of  her  usual  calmness.  "  And  more,  if  you  love 
me  as  you  say  you  do " 

I  protested.  "  i/T '  I  cried.  "If!  And  what  then 
—if  I  do?" 

"You  Avill  learn  to  obey,"  she  answered,  coolly,  yet 
with  an  archness  that  transported  me  anew.  "  I  am  not 
one  of  your  boys," 

For  that  word,  I  would  have  caught  her  in  my  arms 
again,  but  with  a  power  that  I  presently  came  to  know, 
and  whereof  that  was  the  first  exercise,  she  waved  me 
back.  "Go!"  she  said,  masterfully.  "For  this  time, 
go.     Do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

My  boldness  of  a  minute  before,  notwithstanding,  I 
stood  in  awe  of  her,  and  was  easily  cowed ;  and  I  crossed 
the  fence.  When  I  was  on  my  side,  she  came  to  the  gap, 
and  rewarded  me  by  giving  me  her  hand  to  kiss.  "Un- 
derstand me,"  she  said.  "  You  are  to  come  to  this  side, 
sir,  only  when  I  give  you  leave." 

"  Oh,"  I  cried.     "  Can  you  be  so  cruel  ?  " 

"  Or  not  at  all,  if  you  prefer  it,"  she  continued,  drily. 
"  More,  you  must  go  in,  now,  or  I  shall  be  missed  and 
beaten.     You  do  not  w^ant  that  to  happen,  I  suppose?  " 

"  If  that  hag  touches  you  again!  "  I  cried,  boiling  with 
rage  at  the  thought,  "  I  will — I  will " 

"What?"  she  said  softly,  and  her  fingers  closed  on 
mine,  and  sent  a  thrill  to  my  heart. 

"  I  will  strangle  her!  "  I  cried. 

She  laughed,  a  little  cruelly.     "  Fine  words,"  she  said. 

"  But  I  mean  them!  "  I  answered,  passionately.  And 
I  swore  it — I  swore  it;  what  will  not  a  boy  in  love  promise  ? 

"  Well,"  she  answered,  whispering  and  leaning  forward 
until  her  breath  fanned  my  cheek,  and  the  intoxicating 


SHREWSBURY  25 

scent  of  her  hair  stole  a-.vay  my  senses,  "perhaps  some 
day  I  shall  try  you.  Are  yon  sure  that  you  will  not  fail 
me  then?" 

I  swore  it,  i^auting,  and  tried  to  draw  her  towards  me 
by  her  arm;  but  she  held  back,  laughing  softly  and  as  one 
well  jDleased;  and  then,  in  a  moment,  snatching  her  hand 
from  me,  she  vanished  in  the  darkness  of  the  garden,  leav- 
ing me  in  a- seventh  heaven  of  delight,  my  blood  fired  by 
her  kisses,  my  fancy  dwelling  on  her  beauty;  and  without 
one  afterthought. 

Doubtless  had  I  been  less  deep  in  love  (wherein  I  was 
far  over-head),  or  deejDer  in  experience,  I  might  have  noted 
it  for  a  curious  thing  that  she  should  be  so  quickly  com- 
forted ;  and  should  be  able  to  rise  in  a  few  moments,  and 
at  the  touch  of  my  lips,  from  passionate  despair  to  perfect 
control,  both  of  herself  and  of  me.  And  starting  thence, 
I  might  have  gone  on  to  suspect  that  she  possessed  her 
full  share  of  i\ie  finesse,  which  is  always  a  woman's  shield 
and  sometimes  her  sword.  But  as  such  suspicions  are 
foreign  to  youth,  so  are  they  especially  foreign  to  youthful 
love,  which  takes  nothing  lower  than  perfection  for  its  idol. 
And  this  I  can  say  for  certain,  that  they  no  more  entered 
my  brain  than  did  the  consequences  which  were  to  flow 
from  my  passion. 

For  the  time,  indeed,  I  was  in  an  ecstasy,  a  rapture, 
walking  a-tip-toe,  and  troubled  by  none  of  the  things 
that  trouble  common  folk;  so  that  to  this  day — though 
long  married — I  look  back  to  that  period  of  innocent  folly 
with  a  yearning  and  a  regret,  the  sorer  for  this,  that  when 
I  try  to  analyse  the  happiness  I  enjoyed,  I  fail,  and  make 
nothing  of  it.  That  all  things  should  be  changed  for  me, 
and  I  be  changed  in  my  own  eyes  —  so  that  I  walked  a 
head  taller  and  esteemed  myself  ridiculously — by  the  fact 
that  a  kitchen  wench  in  a  drugget  petticoat  and  clogs  had 
let  me  kiss  her,  and  left  me  to  believe  that  she  loved  me, 
seems  incredible  now;  as  incredible  as  that  a  daily  glimpse 


26  SHREWSBURY 

of  her  figure  flitting  among  the  water-butts  and  powder- 
ing-tubs  had  power  to  transform  that  miserable  back  gar- 
den into  a  paradise,   and  Mr.  D 's  school,  with  its 

dumplings,  and  bread  and  dripping,  and  inky  fingers, 
into  a  mansion  of  tremulous  joy! 

Yet  it  was  so.  Nor  did  it  matter  anything  to  me,  so 
great  is  the  power  of  love  when  one  is  young,  that  my 
mistress  went  in  rags,  and  had  coarse  hands,  and  spoke 
rustically.  Touching  this  last,  indeed,  I  must  do  her  the 
justice  to  say  that  from  the  first  she  was  as  quick  to  note 
differences  of  speech  and  manner  as  she  was  apt  to  imitate 
good  exemplars;  and,  moreover,  possessed  under  her  rags 
a  species  of  refinement  that  matched  the  witchery  of  her 
face,  and  proved  her  to  be,  as  she  presently  showed  her- 
self, no  common  girl. 

Of  course  I,  in  the  state  of  happy  delirium  on  which  I 

had  now  entered,  and  wherein  even  Mr.  D and  the 

boys  wore  an  amiable  air,  and  only  Mrs.  D ,  because 

she  persecuted  my  love,  had  the  semblance  of  a  female 
Satan,  needed  no  proof  of  this;  or  I  had  had  it  when  my 
Doi'inda — so  I  christened  her,  feeling  Jennie  too  low  a 
name  for  so  much  beauty  and  kindness — proposed  at  our 
second  rendezvous  that  I  should  teach  her  to  read.  At 
the  first  flush  of  the  proposal  I  found  reading  a  poor  thing 
because  she  did  not  possess  it;  at  the  second  I  adored  her 
for  the  humility  that  condescended  to  learn;  but  at  the 
third  I  saw  the  convenience,  as  well  as  sense,  of  a  proposal 
which  was  as  much  above  the  mind  of  an  ordinary  maid 
in  love  as  Dorinda  appeared  superior  to  such  a  creature  in 
all  the  qualities  that  render  sense  amiable. 

Yet  this  much  granted,  how  to  teach  her,  seeing  that 
we  seldom  met  or  conversed,  and  never,  save  under  the 
kindly  shelter  of  darkness  ?  The  obstacle  for  a  time  taxed 
all  my  ingenuity,  but  in  the  end  I  surmounted  it  by  boldly 

askins:  Mr.  D 's  leave  to  hold  the  afternoon  classes 

in  the  playground.     This,  the  approach  of  warm  weather 


SHREWSBURY  27 

giving  colour  to  the  petition,  was  allowed ;  after  which, 
as  Dorinda  was  engaged  in  the  back  premises  at  that 
hour,  and  could  listen  while  she  drudged,  the  rest  was 
easy.  Calling  up  the  lowest  class,  I  would  find  fault  Avith 
their  reading,  and  after  flying  out  at  them  in  a  simulated 
passion,  would  remit  them  again  and  again  to  the  ele- 
ments; so  that  for  a  fortnight  or  more,  and,  indeed,  until 
the  noise  of  the  lads  repeating  the  lesson  annoyed  Mrs. 

D 's  ears,  the  playground  rang  with  a-b,  ab;  e-b,  eb; 

c-a-t,  cat;  d-o-g,  dog,  and  the  like,  with  the  alphabet 
and  the  rest  of  the  horn-book.  And  all  this  so  frequently 
repeated,  that  with  this  assistance,  and  the  help  of  a 
spelling-book  which  I  gave  her,  and  which  she  studied 
before  others  awoke,  my  mistress  at  the  end  of  two  months 
could  read  tolerably,  and  was  beginning  to  essay  easy 
round-hand. 

And  Heaven  knows  how  delicious  were  those  lessons 
under  the  shabby  ragged  tree  that  shaded  one  half  of  the 
yard!  I  sjioke  to  the  yawning  grubby-fingered  boys,  who 
slouched  and  straddled  round  me;  but  I  knew  to  whose 
ears  I  applied  myself;  nor  had  pupil  ever  a  more  diligent 
master,  or  master  an  apter  pupil.  Once  a  week  I  had 
my  fee  of  kisses,  but  rarely,  very  rarely,  was  permitted 
to  cross  the  fence;  a  reserve  on  my  Dorinda's  part,  that, 
while  it  augmented  the  esteem  in  which  I  held  her,  main- 
tained my  passion  at  a  white  heat.  "When,  nevertheless, 
I  remonstrated  with  her,  and  loverlike,  complained  of 
the  rigour  which  in  my  heart  I  commended,  she  chid  me 
for  setting  a  low  value  on  her;  and  when  I  persisted, 
"  Go  on,"  she  said,  drawing  away  from  me  with  a  won- 
derful air  of  ofilence.  "  Tell  me  at  once,  and  in  so  many 
words,  that  you  think  me  a  low  tiling!  That  you  really 
take  me  for  the  kitchen  drudge  I  appear!  " 

Her  tone  was  full  of  meaning,  Avith  a  hint  of  mystery, 
but  as  I  had  never  thought  her  aught  else — and  yet  an 
angel — I  was  dumb. 


28  SHREWSBURY 

"  You  did  think  me  that?  "  she  cried,  fixing  me  with 
her  eyes,  and  speaking  in  a  tone  that  demanded  an 
answer. 

I  muttered  that  I  had  never  heard,  had  never  known, 
that  —  that  —  and  so  stammered  into  silence^  not  at  all 
understanding  her. 

"Then  I  think  that  hitherto  we  have  been  under  a 
mistake,"  she  answered,  speaking  very  distantly,  and  in 
a  voice  that  sent  my  heart  into  my  boots.  "You  were 
fond — or  said  you  were — of  the  cook-maid.  She  does  not 
exist.  No,  sir,  a  little  farther  away,  if  you  please,"  my 
mistress  continued,  haughtily,  her  head  in  the  air,  "and 
know  that  I  come  of  better  stock  than  that.  If  you 
would  have  my  story  I  will  tell  it  you.  I  can  remember 
— it  is  almost  the  first  thing  I  can  remember — a  day  when 
I  played,  as  a  little  child,  with  a  necklace  of  gold  beads, 
in  the  court-yard  of  a  house  in  a  great  city;  and  wan- 
dered out,  the  side  gate  being  open,  and  the  porter  not  in 
his  seat,  into  the  streets;  where,"  she  continued  dream- 
ily, and  gazing  away  from  me,  "there  were  great 
crowds,  and  men  firing  guns,  and  people  running  every 
way- 


I  uttered  an  exclamation  of  astonishment.  She  noticed 
it  only  by  making  a  short  pause,  and  then  went  on  in  the 
same  thoughtful  tone,  "  As  far  as  I  can  remember,  it  was  a 
place  where  there  were  booths  and  stalls  crowded  together, 
and  among  them,  it  seems  to  me,  a  man  was  being  hunted, 
who  ran  first  one  way  and  then  another,  while  soldiers  shot 
at  him.  At  last  he  came  where  I  had  dropped  on  the 
ground  in  terror,  after  running  child-like  where  the  dan- 
ger was  greatest.  He  glared  at  me  an  instant — he  was 
running,  stooping  down  below  the  level  of  the  booths, 
and  they  had  lost  him  for  the  time;  then  he  snatched  me 
up  in  his  arms,  and  darted  from  his  shelter,  crying  loudly 
as  he  held  me  up,  '  Save  the  child !  Save  the  child ! ' 
The  crowd  raised  the  same  cry,  and  made  a  way  for  him 


SHREWSBURY  29 

to  pass.  And  then — I  do  not  remember  anything,  until 
I  found  myself  shabbily  dressed  in  a  little  inn,  where, 
I  suppose,  the  man,  having  made  his  escape,  left  me." 


CHAPTEE  IV 

At  that  I  remember  that  I  cried  out  in  overwhelming 
excitement  and  amazement;  cried  out  that  I  knew  the 
man  and  his  story,  and  the  place  Avhence  she  had  been 
taken;  that  I  had  heard  the  tale  from » my  father  years 
before.  "  It  was  Colonel  Porter  who  picked  you  up — 
Colonel  Porter,  and  he  saved  his  life  by  it!  "  I  cried,  quite 
beside  myself  at  the  wonderful  discovery  I  had  made. 
"  It  was  Colonel  Porter,  in  the  great  riot  at  Norwich." 

"Ah?"  she  said,  slowly;  looking  away  from  me,  and 
speaking  so  coolly  and  strangely  as  both  to  surprise  and 
damp  me. 

Yet  I  persisted.     "Yes,"  I  said,   "the  story  is  well 

known;  at  least  that  part  of  it.    But "  and  there  and 

at  that  word  I  stopped,  dumbfounded  and  gaping. 

"But  what?"  she  asked  sharply,  and  looked  at  me 
again;  the  colour  risen  in  her  face. 

"But — you  are  only  eighteen,"  I  hazarded  timidly, 
"  and  the  Norwich  riot  was  in  the  War  time.  I  dare  say, 
thirty  years  ago." 

She  turned  on  me  in  a  sort  of  passion. 

"Well,  sir,  and  what  of  that?"  she  cried.  "  Do  you 
think  me  thirty?  " 

"No,  indeed,"  I  answered.  And  at  the  most  she  was 
nineteen. 

"  Then  don't  you  believe  me  ?  " 

I  cried  out  too  at  that;  but,  boy-like,  I  was  so  proud  of 
my  knowledge  and  acuteness   that  I  could  not  let  the 


30  .  SHREWSBURY 

point  lie.  "All  I  mean,"  I  explained,  "is  that  to  have 
been  alive  then,  and  at  Norwich,  you  must  be  thirty  now. 
And " 

"And  was  it  I?  "  she  answered,  flying  out  at  me  in  a 
fine  fury.  "  Who  said  anything  about  Norwich  ?  Or  your 
dirty  riots  ?  Or  your  Porter,  whose  name  I  never  heard 
before!  Go  away!  I  hate  you!  I  hate  you!"  she  con- 
tinued, passionately,  waving  me  off.  "  You  make  up 
things  and  then  put  them  on  me!  I  never  said  a  word 
about  Norwich." 

"I  know  you  did  not,"  I  protested. 

"  Then  why  did  you  say  I  did?"  she  wailed.  "Why 
did  you  say  I  did  ?     You  are  a  wretch !     I  hate  you !  " 

And  with  that,  dissolving  in  tears  and  sobs  she  at  one 
and  the  same  time  showed  me  another  side  of  love,  and 
reduced  me  to  the  utmost  depths  of  despair;  whence  I 
was  not  permitted  to  emerge,  nor  reinstated  in  the  least 
degree  of  favour  until  I  had  a  hundred  times  abased  my- 
self before  her,  and  was  ready  to  curse  the  day  when  I 
first  heard  the  name  of  Porter.  Still  peace  was  at  last, 
and  with  infinite  difficulty  restored;  and  so  complete  was 
our  rcdintegratio  amoris  that  we  presently  ventured  to 
recur  to  her  tale  and  to  the  strange  coincidence  that  had 
divided  us;  which  did  not  seem  so  very  remarkable,  on 
second  thought,  seeing  that  she  could  not  now  remember 
that  she  had  said  a  word  about  booths  or  stalls,  but  would 
have  it  I  had  iinserted  those  particulars;  the  man  in  her 
case  having  taken  refuge  —  she  fancied,  but  could  not  at 
this  distance  of  time  remember  very  clearly — among  the 
seats  of  a  kind  of  bull-ring  or  circus  erected  in  the  market- 
place.    Which  of  course  made  a  good  deal  of  difference. 

Notwithstanding  this  discrepancy,  however,  and  tliough, 
taught  by  experience,  I  hastened  to  agree  with  her  that 
the  secret  of  her  birth  was  not  likely  to  be  discovered  in 
a  moment,  nor  by  so  simple  a  process  as  the  journey  to 
Norwich,  which  I  had  been  going  to  suggest,  it  was  natu- 


SHREWSBURY  31 

ral  that  we  should  often  revert  to  the  subject,  and  to  her 
pretensions,  and  the  hardship  of  her  lot:  and  my  curiosity 
and  questions  giviug  a  fillip  to  her  memory,  scarcely  a  day 
passed  but  she  recovered  some  new  detail  from  the  past; 
as  at  one  time  a  service  of  gold-plate  which  she  perfectly 
remembered  she  had  seen  on  her  father's  sideboard;  and 
at  another  time  an  accident  that  had  befell  her  in  her 
childhood,  through  her  father's  coach  and  six  horses  being 
overturned  in  a  slough.  Such  particulars  (and  many 
others  as  pertinent  and  romantic,  on  which  I  Avill  not 
linger)  gave  us  a  certainty  of  her  past  consequence  and 
her  future  fortune  were  her  parents  once  known;  and 
while  they  served  to  augment  the  respect  in  which  my 
love  held  her,  gradually  and  almost  imperceptibly  led  her 
to  take  a  higher  tone  with  me,  and  even  on  occasions  to 
carry  herself  towards  me  with  an  air  of  mystery,  as  if 
there  were  still  some  things  which  she  had  not  confided 
to  me. 

This  attitude  on  her  ]Dart — which  in  itself  pained  me 
extremely — and  still  more  the  fear  naturally  arising  from 
it,  that  if  she  came  by  her  own  I  should  immediately  lose 
her,  forced  me  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  yet  another 
side  of  love;  by  throwing  me,  I  mean,  into  such  a  fever 
of  suspicion  and  jealousy  as  made  me  for  a  period  the 
most  unhappy  of  men.  From  this  plight  my  mistress, 
exercising  the  privilege  of  her  sex,  made  no  haste  to 
relieve  me.  On  the  contrary,  by  affecting  an  increased 
reserve  and  asserting  that  her  movements  were  watched, 
she  prolonged  my  doubts;  nor  when  this  treatment  had 
wrought  the  desired  end  of  reducing  me  to  the  lowest 
depths,  and  she  at  length  consented  to  meet  me,  did  she 
entirely  relent  or  abandon  her  reserve;  or  if  she  did  so, 
on  rare  occasions,  it  was  only  to  set  me  some  task  as  the 
price  of  her  complaisance,  or  expose  me  to  some  trial  by 
which  she  might  prove  my  devotion. 

In  a  word,  while  I  became  hopelessly  enslaved,  even  to 


33  SHREWSBURY 

the  flogging  a  boy  at  her  word,  or  procuring  a  dress  far 
above  my  station — merely  that  she  might  see  me  by  stealth 
in  it,  and  judge  of  my  air! — which  were  two  of  her  ca- 
prices, she  appeared  to  be  farther  removed  from  me  every 
day,  and  at  each  meeting  granted  me  fewer  privileges. 
AVhether  this  treatment  had  its  origin  in  the  natural  in- 
stinct of  a  woman,  or  was  deliberately  chosen  as  better 
calculated  to  increase  my  subservience,  it  had  the  latter 
effect;  and  to  such  an  extent  that  when,  after  a  long 
absence,  she  condescended  to  meet  me,  and  broached  a 
plan  that  earlier  would  have  raised  my  hair,  I  asked  no 
better  than  to  do  her  bidding,  and,  instead  of  pointing 
out  the  folly  of  her  proposal,  fell  in  with  it  with  scarcely 
a  murmur. 

Her  plan,  when  she  communicated  it  to  me,  which  she 
did  with  an  air  of  mystery  and  the  same  assumption  of  a 
secret  withheld  that  had  tormented  me  before,  amounted 
to  nothing  less  than  an  evening  sally  into  the  town  on  the 
occasion  of  the  approaching  visit  of  the  Duke  of  York, 
who  was  to  lie  one  night  at  the  Eose  at  Ware  on  his  way 

to    Newmarket.      Mr.    D had   issued   the   strictest 

orders  that  all  should  keep  the  house  during  this  visit; 
not  so  much  out  of  a  proper  care  for  the  boys'  morality 
(though  the  gay  crowd  that  followed  the  Court  served  for 
a  pretext)  as  because,  in  his  character  of  fanatic  and 
Exclusionist,  he  held  His  Highness's  religion  and  person 
in  equal  abhorrence.  Such  a  restriction  weighed  little  in 
the  scale  against  love;  but,  infatuated  as  I  was,  I  found 
something  that  sensibly  shocked  me  in  the  proposal  com- 
ing from  Dorinda's  lips;  nor  could  I  fail  to  foresee  many 
dangers  to  which  a  young  girl  must  expose  herself  on 
such  an  expedition  in  the  town,  and  at  night.  But  as  to 
a  youth  in  love  nothing  that  his  mistress  chooses  to  do 
seems  long  amiss,  so  this  proposal  scared  me  for  a  moment 
only;  after  which  it  cost  my  mistress  no  more  than  a  little 
rallying  on  my  crop-eared  manners,  and  some  scolding, 


SHREWSBURY  33 

to  make  me  see  it  in  its  true  aspect  of  an  innocent  frolic, 
fraught  with  as  much  pleasure  to  the  cavalier  as  novelty 
to  the  escorted. 

"You  will  don  your  new  suit,"  she  said,  merrily,  "and 
I  shall  meet  you  in  the  garden  at  half  past  nine." 

"  And  if  the  boys  may  miss  me  ?  "  I  protested  feebly. 

"The  boys  have  missed  you  before!"  she  answered, 
mocking  my  tone.  "Were  you  not  here  last  night? 
And  for  a  whole  hour,  sir  ?  " 

I  confessed  with  hot  cheeks  that  I  had  been  there; 
humbly  and  tamely  awaiting  her  pleasure. 

"And  did  they  tell  then?"  she  asked  scornfully. 
"  Or  are  they  less  afraid  of  the  birch  now  ?  But  of  course 
— if  you  don't  care  to  come  with  me — or  are  afraid, 
sir ?" 

"  I  am  neither,"  I  said  warmly.  "  Only  I  do  not  quite 
understand,  sweet,  what  you  wish." 

"They  lie  at  the  Rose,"  she  said.  "And  amongst 
them,  I  am  told,  are  the  prettiest  men  and  the  most  lovely 
women  in  the  world.  And  jewels,  and  laces,  and  such 
dresses!  Oh,  I  am  mad  to  see  them!  And  music  and 
gaming  and  dancing!  And  dishes  and  plates  of  gold! 
And  a  Popish  priest,  which  is  a  thing  I  have  never  seen, 
though  I  have  heard  of  it.     And " 


■&■■ 


"  And  do  you  expect  to  see  all  these  things  through 
the  windows?  "  I  cried  in  my  sujierior  knowledge. 

She  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  with  her  hands  on  my 
shoulders,  swayed  to  and  fro  sideways  as  if  she  already 
heard  the  music;  while  her  gipsy  face  looked  archly  into 
mine,  first  on  this  side  and  then  on  that,  and  her  hair 
swung  to  and  fro  on  her  shoulders  in  a  beautiful  abandon- 
ment which  I  found  it  impossible  to  resist.  At  last  she 
stopped,  and,  "Yes,"  she  said  demurely,  "through  the 
windows,  j\Iaster  Eichard  Longface!  Do  yon  meet  me 
here  at  half  past  nine — in  your  new  suit,  sir — and  you 
shall  see  them  too — through  the  windows." 


34 


SHREWSBURY 


After  that,  though  I  made  a  last  effort  to  dissuade  her, 
there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said.  Obedient  to  her 
behest,  I  made  my  preparations,  and  at  the  appointed 
hour  next  evening  rose  softly  from  the  miserable  pallet  on 

which  I  had  just 
laid  down ;  and 
dressing  myself 
with  shaking  fin- 
gers and  in  the 
dark  —  that  my 
bed-fellows  might 
know  as  little  as 
possible  of  my 
movements — stole 
down  thestairsand 
into  the  garden. 

Here    I    found 
myself  first  at  the 
rendezvous.      The 
night  was  dark,  but 
an    unusual   light 
hung  over  the  town,  and 
the  wind  that  stirred  the 
poplars     brought     scraps     and 
sounds  of  music  to  the  ear.     I 
had  some  time  to  wait,  and  time 
too  to  think  what  I  was  about 
to  do  ;  to  weigh  the  chances  of 
STOLE  DOWN  THE  STAIRS  AND  dctectiou    aud     dlsmlssal,    and 
INTO  THE  GARDEN  eveu  to  taste   the  qualms   that 

rawness  and  timidity  mingled 
with  my  anticipations  of  pleasure.  But,  though  I  had 
my  fears,  no  vision  of  the  real  future  obtruded  itself  on 
my  mind  as  I  stood  there  listening :  nor  any  forewarning 
of  the  plunge  I  was  about  to  take.  And  before  I  had 
come  to  the  end  of  my  patience  Dorinda  stood  beside  me. 


SHREWSBURY  35 

Dark  as  it  was,  I  fancied  that  I  discerned  something 
strange  in  her  appearance,  and  I  wonld  have  investigated 
it;  but  she  Avhispered  that  we  were  late,  and  evading  as 
well  my  questions  as  the  caress  I  offered,  she  bade  me  help 
her  as  quickly  as  I  could  over  the  fence.  I  did  so;  we 
crossed  a  neighbouring  garden,  and  in  a  twinkling  and 
with  the  least  possible  difficulty  stood  in  the  road.  Here 
the  strains  of  music  came  more  plainly  to  the  ear,  and  the 
glare  of  light  hung  lower  and  shone  more  brightly.  This 
seemed  enough  for  my  mistress;  she  turaed  that  way 
without  hesitation,  and  set  forward,  the  outskirts  of  the 
town  being  quickly  passed.  Between  the  late  hour  and 
the  flux  of  people  towards  the  centre  of  interest,  the 
streets  were  vacant;  and  we  met  no  one  until  we  reached 
the  main  thoroughfare,  and  came  upon  the  edge  of  the 
great  crowd  that  moved  to  and  fro  before  the  Eose  Inn. 
Here  all  the  windows,  in  one  of  which  a  band  of  music 
was  playing  some  new  air,  were  brilliantly  lighted;  while 
below  and  round  the  door  was  such  a  throng  of  hurrying 
waiters  and  drawers,  and  such  a  carrying  of  meals  and 
drinks,  and  a  shouting  of  orders  as  almost  turned  the 
brain.  A  carriage  and  six  that  had  just  set  down  a 
grandee,  come  to  pay  his  devoirs  to  the  Prince,  was  mov- 
ing off  as  we  came  up,  the  horses  smoking,  the  footmen 
panting,  and  the  postilions  stooping  in  their  saddles.  A 
little  to  one  side  a  cask  was  being  staved  for  the  troopers 
who  had  come  with  the  Duke;  and  on  all  the  noisy, 
moving  scene  and  the  flasks  that  streamed  from  the  roofs 
and  windows,  and  the  shifting  crowd,  poured  the  ruddy 
light  of  a  great  hon-feu  that  burned  on  the  farther  side 
of  the  way. 

Nor,  rare  as  were  these  things,  were  they  the  most 
pertinent  or  the  strangest  that  the  fire  revealed  to  me.  I 
had  come  for  nothing  else  but  to  see,  clam  et  fnrtim,  as 
the  classics  say,  what  was  to  be  seen;  with  no  thought  of 
passing  beyond  the  uttermost  ring  of  spectators.     But  as 


36  SHREWSBURY 

I  hung  back  sliamefacedly  my  companion  seized  my  wrist 
and  drew  me  on ;  and  when  I  turned  to  her  to  remonstrate, 
as  Heaven  lives,  I  did  not  know  her!  I  conceived  for  a 
moment  that  some  madam  of  the  court  had  seized  me  in 
a  frolic;  nor  for  a  perceptible  space  could  I  imagine  that 
the  fine  cloaked  lady,  whose  eyes  shone  bright  as  stars 
through  the  holes  in  her  mask,  and  Avhose  raven  hair,  so 
cunningly  dressed,  failed  to  hide  the  brilliance  of  her 
neck,  where  the  cloak  fell  loose,  was  my  Dorinda,  my 
mistress,  the  cook-maid  whom  I  had  kissed  in  the  garden ! 
Honestly,  for  an  instant,  I  recoiled  and  hung  back,  afraid 
of  her;  nor  was  I  quite  assured  of  the  truth,  so  un^jre- 
pared  was  I  for  the  change,  until  she  whispered  me 
sharply  to  come  on. 

''Whither?"  I  said,  still  hanging  back  in  dismay. 
The  bystanders  were  beginning  to  turn  and  stare,  and  in 
a  moment  would  have  jeered  us. 

"  Within  doors,"  she  urged. 

"  They  will  not  admit  us!  " 

"They  will  admit  me,"  she  answered  proudly,  and 
made  as  if  she  would  throw  my  hand  from  her. 

Still  I  did  not  believe  her,  and  it  was  that,  and  that 
only,  that  emboldened  me;  though,  to  be  sure,  I  was  in 
love  and  her  slave.  Reluctantly,  and  almost  sulkily,  I 
gave  way,  and  sneaked  behind  her  to  the  door.  A  man 
who  stood  on  the  steps  seemed,  at  the  first  glance,  minded 
to  sto^i  her;  but,  looking  again,  smiled  and  let  us  pass; 
and  in  a  twinkling  we  stood  in  the  hall  among  hurrying 
waiters,  and  shouting  call-boys,  and  bloods  in  silk  coats, 
whose  scabbards  rang  as  they  came  down  the  stairs,  and  a 
fair  turmoil  of  pages,  and  footboys,  and  gentlemen,  and 
gentlemen's  gentlemen. 

In  such  a  company,  elbowed  this  way  and  that  by  my 
betters,  I  knew  neither  how  to  carry  myself,  nor  where 
to  look ;  but  Dorinda,  with  barely  a  pause,  and  as  if  she 
knew  the  house,  thrust  open  the  nearest  door,  and  led 


MY    COMPANION    SEIZED    MY    WRIST 


SHREWSBURY  39 

the  way  into  a  great  room  that  stood  on  the  right  of  the 
hall. 

Here,  down  the  spacious  floor,  and  lighted  by  sliaded 
candles,  were  ranged  several  tables,  at  which  a  number  of 
persons  had  seats,  while  others  again  stood  or  moved 
about  the  room.  The  majority  of  those  present  were  men. 
I  noticed,  however,  three  or  four  women  masked  after  the 
fashion -of  my  companion,  but  more  gorgeously  dressed, 
and  in  my  simplicity  did  not  doubt  that  these  were  duch- 
esses, the  more  as  they  talked  and  laughed  loudly;  whereas 
the  general  com j)any  —  save  those  who  sat  at  one  table 
where  the  game  was  at  a  standstill,  and  all  were  crying 
persistently  for  a  Tallier  —  spoke  low,  the  rattle  of  dice 
and  chink  of  coin,  and  an  occasional  oath,  taking  the 
place  of  conversation.  I  saw  piles  of  guineas  and  half- 
guineas  on  the  tables,  and  gold  lace  on  the  men's  coats, 
and  the  women  a  dream  of  silks  and  furbelows,  and 
gleaming  shoulders  and  flashing  eyes;  and  between  awe 
of  my  company,  and  horror  at  finding  myself  in  such  a 
place,  I  took  all  for  real  that  glittered.  Where,  there- 
fore, a  man  of  experience  would  have  discerned  a  crowd 
of  dubious  rakes  and  rustic  squires  temjDting  fortune  for 
the  benefit  of  the  Groom-Porter,  whose  privilege  was 
ambulatory,  I  fancied  I  gazed  on  earls  and  barons  ;  saw 
a  garter  on  every  leg,  and,  blind  to  the  stained  walls  of 
the  common  inn-room,  supplied  every  bully  who  cried 
the  main  or  called  the  trumps  with  the  pedigree  of  a 
Howard. 

This  was  a  delusion  not  unnatural,  and  a  prey  to  it,  I 
expected  each  moment  to  be  my  last  in  that  company. 
But  the  fringe  of  spectators  that  stood  behind  the  players 
favouring  us,  we  fell  easily  into  line  at  one  of  the  tables, 
and  nothing  happening,  and  no  one  saying  us  nay,  I  pres- 
ently breathed  more  freely.  I  could  see  that  my  com- 
panion's beauty,  though  hidden  in  the  main  by  her  mask, 
was  the  subject  of  general  remark;  and  that  it  drew  on 


40  SHREWSBURY 

her  looks  and  regards  more  or  less  insolent.  But  as  she 
took  no  heed  of  these,  but  on  the  contrary  gazed  about 
her  unmoved  and  with  indifference,  I  hoped  for  the  best; 
and  excited  by  the  brilliance  and  movement  of  a  scene  so 
far  above  my  wildest  dreams,  that  I  already  anticipated 
the  pride  with  which  I  should  hereafter  describe  it,  I 
began  to  draw  a  fearful  joy  from  our  escapade.  Like 
^neas  and  Ulysses,  I  had  seen  men  and  cities!  And 
stood  among  heroes!  And  seen  the  sirens!  To  which 
thoughts  I  was  proceeding  to  add  others  equally  classical, 
when  a  gentleman  behind  me  diverted  my  thoughts  by 
touching  my  companion  on  the  arm,  and  very  politely 
requesting  her  to  lay  on  the  table  a  guinea  which  he 
handed  to  her. 

She  did  so,  and  he  thanked  her  with  a  low- spoken 
compliment;  then  added  with  bent  head,  but  bold  eyes, 
"Fortune,  my  pretty  lady,  cannot  surely  have  been 
unkind  to  one  so  fair!  " 

"I  do  not  play,"  Dorinda  answered,  with  all  the 
bluntness  I  could  desire. 

"  And  yet  I  think  I  have  seen  you  play?  "  he  replied. 
And  affecting  to  be  engaged  in  identifying  her,  he  let  his 
eyes  rove  over  her  figure. 

Doubtless  Dorinda's  mask  gave  her  courage;  yet,  even 
this  taken  into  the  count,  her  wit  and  resource  astonished 
me.  "You  do  not  know  me,  my  pretty  gentleman," 
she  said,  coolly,  and  with  a  proud  air. 

"  I  know  that  you  have  cost  me  a  guinea !  "  he  answered. 
"See,  they  have  swept  it  off.  And  as  I  staked  it  for 
nothing  else  but  to  have  an  excuse  to  address  the  hand- 
somest woman  in  the  room " 

"You  do  not  know  what  I  am  —  behind  my  mask," 
she  retorted. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  hardily,  "  and  therefore  I  am  going 
— I  am  going " 

"So  am  I!"  my  mistress  answered,  with  a  quickness 


SHREWSBURY  41 

that  both  surprised  and  delighted  me.  "  Good  night, 
good  spendthrift!     You  are  going;  and  I  am  going." 

"  Well  hit!  "  he  replied,  with  a  grin.  "  And  well  con- 
tent if  we  go  together!  Yet  I  think  I  know  how  I  could 
keep  you!  " 

"  Yes?  "  she  said,  indifferently. 

"  By  deserving  the  name,"  he  answered.  "  You  called 
me  sj)endthrift. " 

On  that  I  do  not  know  whether  she  thought  him  too 
forward,  or  saw  that  I  was  nearly  at  the  end  of  my 
patience  — which  it  may  be  imagined  was  no  little  tried  by 
this  badinage  —  but  she  turned  her  shoulder  to  him  out- 
right, and  spoke  a  Avord  to  me  in  a  low  tone.  Then: 
"Give  me  a  guinea,  Dick!"  she  said,  pretty  loudly. 
"I  think  I'll  play." 


CHAPTER  V 

She  spoke  confidently  and  with  a  grand  air,  knowing 
that  I  had  brought  a  guinea  with  me;  so  that  I  had 
neither  the  heart  to  shame  her,  nor  the  courage  to  dis- 
please her.  Though  it  was  the  ninth  part  of  my  income 
therefore,  and  it  seemed  to  me  sheer  madness  or  worse  to 
stake  such  a  sum  on  a  single  card,  and  win  or  lose  it  in  a 
moment,  I  lugged  it  out  and  gave  it  to  her.  Even  then, 
knowing  her  to  have  no  more  skill  in  the  game  than  I 
had,  I  was  at  a  stand,  wondering  what  she  would  do  with 
it;  but  with  the  tact  which  never  fails  a  woman  she  laid 
it  where  the  gentleman  had  placed  his.  AA'itli  better 
luck;  for  in  a  twinkling,  and  before  I  thought  it  well 
begun,  the  deal  was  over,  the  players  sat  back,  and  swore, 
and  the  banker,  giving  and  taking  here  and  there,  thrust 
a  guinea  over  to  our  guinea.      I  was  in  a  sweat  to  take 


42  SHREWSBURY 

both  up  before  anyone  clieated  us;  but  she  nudged  me, 
and  said  with  her  finest  air,  "  Let  it  lie,  Dick!  Do  you 
hear?     Let  it  lie." 

This  was  almost  more  than  I  could  bear,  to  see  fortune 
in  my  grasp,  and  not  shut  my  hand  upon  it,  but  she  was 
mistress  and  I  let  it  lie;  and  in  a  moment,  hey  presto,  as 
the  Egyptians  say,  the  two  guineas  were  four,  and  those 
who  played  next  us,  seeing  her  success,  began  to  jiass  re- 
marks on  her,  making  nothing  of  debating  who  she  was, 
and  discussing  about  her  shape  and  complexion  in  terms 
that  made  my  cheeks  burn.  Whether  this  open  admira- 
tion turned  her  head,  or  their  freedom  confused  her,  she 
let  the  money  lie  again;  and  when  I  would  have  snatched 
it  up,  not  regarding  her,  the  dealer  prevented  me,  say- 
ing that  it  was  too  late,  while  she  with  an  air,  as  if  I  had 
been  her  servant,  turned  and  rated  me  sharj^ly  for  a 
fool.  This  caused  a  little  disturbance  at  which  all  the 
company  laughed.  However,  the  event  proved  me  no 
fool,  but  wiser  than  most,  for  in  two  minutes  that  pretty 
sum,  which  was  as  much  as  I  had  ever  possessed  at  one 
time  in  my  life,  Avas  swept  off;  and  for  two  guineas  the 
richer,  which  we  had  been  a  moment  before,  we  remained 
one,  and  that  my  only  one,  the  poorer! 

For  myself,  I  could  have  cried  at  the  misadventure, 
but  my  mistress  carried  it  off  with  a  shrill  laugh,  and 
tossing  her  head  in  affected  contempt — whereat,  I  am 
bound  to  confess,  the  company  laughed  again — turned 
from  the  table.  I  sneaked  after  her  as  miserable  as  you 
please,  and  in  that  order  we  had  got  half  way  to  the 
door,  Avhen  the  gentleman  who  had  addressed  her  before, 
stepped  up  in  front  of  her,  "  Beauty  so  reckless,"  he 
said,  speaking  with  a  grin,  and  in  a  tone  of  greater  free- 
dom than  he  had  used  previously,  "  needs  someone  to 
care  for  it!  Unless  I  am  mistaken,  Mistress,  you  came 
on  foot?"  And  with  a  sneering  smile,  he  dropped  his 
eyes  to  the  hem  of  her  cloak. 


SHREWSBURY  43 

Alas,  I  looked  too,  and  the  murder  was  out.  To  be 
sure  Dorinda  had  clothed  herself  very  handsomely  above, 
but  coming  to  her  feet  had  trusted  to  her  cloak  to  hide 
the  deficiency  she  had  no  means  to  supply.  Still,  and 
in  si^ite  of  this,  all  might  have  been  well  if  she  had  not 
in  her  chagrin  at  losing,  forgotten  the  blot,  and,  unused 
to  long  skirts,  raised  them  so  high  as  to  expose  a  foot, 
shapely  indeed,  but  stockingless,  and  shod  in  an  old 
broken  shoe! 

Her  ears  and  neck  turned  crimson  at  the  exposure,  and 
she  droj^ped  her  cloak  as  if  it  burned  her  hand.  I  fan- 
cied that  if  the  stranger  had  looked  to  ingratiate  himself 
by  his  ill-mannered  jest,  he  had  gone  the  wrong  way  about 
it,  and  I  was  not  surprised  when  she  answered  in  a  voice 
quivering  with  mortification,  "Yes,  on  foot.  But  you 
may  spare  your  pains.  I  am  in  this  gentleman's  care,  I 
thank  you." 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  in  a  joeculiar  tone,  "  this  gentleman  ?  " 
And  he  looked  me  up  and  down. 

I  knew  that  it  behooved  me  to  ruffle  it  with  him,  and 
let  him  know  by  out-staring  him  that  at  a  word  I  was 
ready  to  pull  his  nose.  But  I  was  a  boy  in  strange  com- 
pany, and  utterly  cast  down  by  the  loss  of  my  guinea; 
he  a  Court  bully  in  sword  and  lace,  bred  to  carry  it  in 
such  and  worse  places.  Though  he  seemed  to  be  no  more 
than  thirty,  he  had  a  long  and  hard  face  under  his  peri- 
wig, and  eyes  both  tired  and  melancholy;  and  he  spoke 
with  a  drawl  and  a  curling  lip,  and  by  the  mere  way  he 
looked  at  me  showed  that  he  thought  me  no  better  than 
dirt.  To  make  a  long  story  short,  I  had  not  looked  at 
him  a  moment  before  my  eyes  fell. 

"Oh,  this  gentleman?"  he  said  again,  in  a  tone  of 
cutting  contempt.  "Well,  I  hope  that  he  has  more 
guineas  than  one — or  your  ladyship  will  soon  trudge  it, 
skin  to  mud.  As  it  is,  I  fear  that  I  detain  you.  Kindly 
carry  my  compliments  to  Farmer  Grudgen.  And  the  pigs ! ' ' 


44  SHREWSBURY 

And  smiling — not  laughing,  for  a  laugli  seemed  alien 
from  his  face — at  a  jest  which  was  too  near  the  truth  not 
to  mortify  us  exceedingly,  my  lord — for  a  lord  I  thought 
he  was — turned  away  with  an  ironical  bow;  leaving  us  to 
get  out  of  the  room  with  what  dignity  we  might,  and 
such  temper  as  remained  to  us.  For  myself  I  was  in 
such  a  rage,  both  at  the  loss  of  my  guinea  and  at  being  so 
flouted,  tliat  I  could  scarcely  govern  myself;  yet  in  my 
awe  of  Dorinda  I  said  nothing,  expecting  and  fearing  an 
outbreak  on  her  part,  the  consequences  of  which  it  was 
not  easy  to  foretell.  I  was  proportionately  pleased  there- 
fore, when  she  made  no  more  ado  at  the  time,  but  push- 
ing her  way  through  the  crowd  in  the  street,  turned 
homeward  and  took  the  road  without  a  Avord. 

This  was  so  unlike  her  that  I  was  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand it,  and  was  fain  to  conclude — from  the  fact  that  she 
two  or  three  times  paused  to  listen  and  look  back — that 
she  feared  pursuit.  The  thought,  bringing  to  my  mind 
the  risk  of  being  detected  and  dismissed,  which  I  ran — a 
risk  that  came  home  to  me  now  that  the  pleasure  was 
over,  and  I  had  only  in  prosjiect  my  squalid  bed-room 
and  the  morrow's  tasks — filled  me  with  uneasiness.  But 
I  might  have  spared  myself,  for  when  she  spoke  I  found 
that  her  thoughts  were  on  other  things. 

"Dick,"  she  said,  suddenly — and  halted  abruptly  in 
the  road,  "you  must  lend  me  a  guinea." 

"A  guinea?"  I  cried,  aghast,  and  speaking,  it  may 
be,  with  a  little  displeasure.  "  Why,  have  you  not 
Just " 

"What?"  she  said. 

"  Lost  my  only  one." 

She  laughed  with  a  recklessness  that  confounded  me. 
"Well,  you  have  got  to  find  another  one,"  she  said. 
"And  one  to  that!" 

"  Another  guinea  ?  "  I  gasped. 

"Yes,    another    guinea,    and   another    guinea!"    she 


SHREWSBURY  45 

answered,  mimicking  my  tone  of  consternation.  "One 
for  my  shoes  and  stockings — oh,  I  wish  he  were  dead!  " 
And  she  stamped  her  foot  passionately.     "  And  one " 

"  Yes?  "  I  said,  with  a  poor  attempt  at  irony.  "And 
one ?  " 

"For  me  to  stake  next  Friday,  when  the  Duke  passes 
this  way  on  his  road  liome. " 

"He  does  not!" 

"He  does,  he  does!"  she  retorted.  "  And  you  will 
do  too — what  I  say,  sir!  or " 

"  Or  what  ?  "  I  cried,  calling  up  a  sj)irit  for  once. 

"  Or "  and  she  raised  her  voice  a  little,  and  sang: 


"  But  alas,  when  I  wake,  and  no  Phyllis  I  find, 
How  I  sigh  to  myself  all  alone  ! " 

"  You  never  loved  me!  "  I  cried,  in  a  rage  at  that  and 
her  greed. 

"Have  it  your  own  way!"  she  answered,  carelessly, 
and  sang  it  again;  and  after  that  there  was  no  more  talk, 
but  we  walked  with  all  the  width  of  the  road  between  us; 
I  with  a  sore  heart  and  she  titupping  along,  cool  and 
happy,  pleased,  I  think,  that  slie  had  visited  on  me  some 
of  the  chagrin  which  the  stranger  had  caused  her,  and 
for  the  rest  with  God  knows  what  thoughts  in  her  heart. 
At  least  I  little  suspected  them;  yet,  with  the  little 
knowledge  I  had,  I  was  angry  and  pained;  and  for  the 
time  was  so  far  freed  from  illusion  that  I  would  not  make 
the  overture,  but  hardened  myself  with  the  thought  of 
my  guinea  and  her  selfishness;  and  coming  to  the  gap  in 
the  first  fence  helped  her  over  with  a  cold  hand  and  no 
embrace  such  as  was  usual  between  us  at  such  junctures. 

In  a  word,  we  were  like  naughty  children  returning 
after  playing  truant;  and  might  have  parted  in  that  guise, 
and  this  the  very  best  thing  that  could  have  happened 
to  me — who  had  no  guinea,  and  knew  not  where  to  get 
one;  though  I  would  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that,  in  the 


.46  SHREWSBURY 

frame  of  mind  in  which  I  then  was^,  it  would  have  saved 
me.  But  in  the  article  of  parting,  and  when  the  garden 
fence  already  rose  between  us,  yet  each  remained  plain  to 
the  other  by  the  light  of  the  moon  which  had  risen,  Dor- 
inda  on  a  sudden  raised  her  hands,  and  holding  her  cloak 
from  her,  stood  and  looked  at  me  an  instant  in  the  most 
ravishing  fashion — with  her  head  thrown  back  and  her 
lips  parted,  and  her  eyes  shining,  and  the  white  of  her 
neck  and  her  bare  arms,  and  the  swell  of  her  bosom  show- 
ing. I  could  have  sworn  that  even  the  scent  of  her  hair 
reached  me,  though  tliat  was  impossible.  But  what  I  saw 
was  enough.  I  might  have  known  that  she  did  it  only 
to  tantalize  me :  I  might  have  known  that  she  would  show 
me  what  I  risked;  but  on  the  instant,  oblivious  of  all 
else,  I  owned  her  beauty,  and  resentment  and  my  loss 
alike  forgotten,  sprang  to  the  fence,  my  blood  on  fire, 
and  words  bubbling  on  my  lips.  Another  second,  and  I 
should  have  been  at  her  feet,  have  kissed  her  shoes  muddy 
and  broken  as  they  were;  but  she  turned,  and  with  a 
backward  glance,  that  only  the  more  inflamed  me,  fled 
ujj  the  garden,  and  to  the  house,  whither,  even  at  my 
maddest,  I  dared  not  follow  her. 

However,  enough  had  passed  to  send  me  to  my  bed  to 
long  and  lie  awake;  enough,  the  morrow  come,  to  take 
all  colour  from  the  grey  tasks  and  dull  drudgery  of 
school-time;  insomuch  that  the  hours  seemed  days,  and 

the  days  weeks,  and  Mr.  D 's  ignorant  prosing  and 

infliction  too  wearisome  to  be  borne.  What  my  love  now 
lacked  of  reverence,  it  made  up  in  passion,  and  passion's 
offspring,  impatience:  on  which  it  is  to  be  supposed  my 
mistress  counted,  since  for  three  whole  days  she  kept 
within,  and  though  every  evening  I  flew  to  the  rendezvous, 
and  there  cooled  my  heels  for  an  hour,  she  never  showed 
herself. 

Once,  however,  I  heard  her  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fence,  singing: 


SHREWSBURY  47 

"  But  alas,  when  I  wake,  and  no  Phyllis  I  find, 
How  I  sigh  to  myself  all  alone  ! " 

And^  sick  at  heart,  I  understood  the  threat  and  her  atti- 
tude. Nevertheless,  and  though  the  knowledge  should 
have  cured  me,  by  convincing  me  that  she  was  utterly 
unworthy  and  had  never  loved  me,  I  only  consumed  the 
more  for  her,  and  grovelled  the  lower  in  spirit  before  her 
and  her  beauty;  and  the  devil  presently  putting  in  my 
way  the  means  where  he  had  already  provided  the  motive, 
it  was  no  wonder  that  I  made  but  a  poor  resistance,  and 
in  a  short  time  fell. 

It  came  about  in  this  way.  In  the  course  of  the  week, 
and  before  the  Friday  on  which  the  Duke  was  to  return 

that  way,  Mr.  D announced  an  urgent  call  to  London; 

and  as  he  was  too  wise  to  broach  such  a  proposal  Avithout 

a  qiiid  pro  qno,  Mrs.   D must  needs  go  with  him. 

The  stage-wagon,  which  travelled  three  days  in  the  week, 
would  serve  next  morning,  and  all  was  hasty  jirepara- 
tion;  clothes  were  packed  and  mails  got  out;  a  gossip,  one 

Mrs.  Harris,  was  engaged  to  take  j\Irs.  D 's  place,  and 

the  boys  were  entrusted  to  me,  with  strict  instructions 
to  see  all  lights  out  at  night,  and  no  waste.  That  these 
injunctions  might  be  the  more  deeply  impressed  on  me, 

I  was  summoned  to    Mrs.   D 's    parlour  to   receive 

them;  but  unluckily  with  the  instructions  given  to  me 
were  mingled  housekeeping  directions  to  Mrs.  Harris, 
who  was  also  present;  the  result  being  that  when  I 
retired  from  the  room  I  carried  with  me  the  knowledge 
that  in  a  certain  desk,  perfectly  accessible,  my  employer 
left  three  guineas,  to  be  used  in  case  of  emergency,  but 
otherwise  not  to  be  touched. 

It  was  an  unhappy  chance,  explaining,  as  well  as 
accounting  for,  so  much  of  what  follows,  that  were  I  to 
enter  into  long  details  of  the  catastrophe,  it  would  be 
useless;  since  the  judicious  reader  will  have  already 
informed  himself  of  a  result  that  was  never  in  doubt. 


48  SHREWSBURY 

from  the  time  that  my  employer's  departure  at  once  pro- 
vided the  means  of  gratification,  and  by  removing  the 
restraints  under  which  we  had  before  laboured,  held  out 
the  prospect  of  pleasure.  Nor  can  I  plead  that  I  sinned 
in  ignorance;  for  as  I  sat  among  the  boys  and  mechani- 
cally heard  their  tasks,  I  called  myself,  "Thief,  thief," 
a  hundred  times,  and  a  hundred  to  that;  and  once  even 
groaned  aloud;  yet  never  flinched  or  doubted  that  I 
should  take  the  money.      Which  I  did — to  cut  a  long 

story  short — before  Mr.  D had  been  three  hours  out 

of  the  house;  and  that  evening  humbly  presented  the 
whole  of  it  to  my  mistress,  who  rewarded  my  complai- 
sance with  present  kisses  and  future  pledges,  to  be 
redeemed  when  she  should  have  once  more  tasted  the 
pleasures  of  the  great  world. 

To  tell  the  truth,  her  craving  for  these,  and  to  be 
seen  again  in  those  haunts  where  we  had  reaped  nothing 
but  loss  and  mortification,  was  a  continual  puzzle  to  me, 
who  asked  for  nothing  better  than  to  enjoy  her  society 
and  kindness,  as  far  as  possible  from  the  world.  But  as 
she  ivould  go  and  would  play,  and  made  my  subservience 
in  this  matter  the  condition  of  her  favour,  it  was  essen- 
tial she  should  win;  since  I  could  then  restore  the  money 
I  had  taken ;  whereas  if  she  lost,  I  saw  no  prospect  before 
me  but  the  hideous  one  of  detection  and  punishment. 
Accordingly,  Avhen  the  evening  came,  and  we  had  effected 
the  same  clandestine  exodus  as  before — but  this  time 
with  less  peril,  Mrs.  Harris  being  a  sleepy,  easy-going 
woman — I  could  think  of  nothing  but  this  necessity;  and 
far  from  experiencing  the  terrors  which  had  beset  me 
before,  when  Dorinda  would  enter  the  inn,  gave  no 
thought  to  the  scene  or  the  crowd  through  which  we 
pushed,  or  any  other  of  the  preliminaries,  but  had  my 
soul  so  set  upon  the  fortune  that  awaited  us,  that  I  was 
for  passing  through  the  door  in  the  hardiest  fashion,  and 
would  scarcely  stand   even   when   a   hand   gripped   my 


SHREWSBURY  49 

shoulder.  However,  a  roiigli  voice  exclaiming  in  my  ear, 
"Softly,  youngster!  Who  are  yon  that  poke  in  so 
boldly?     I  don't  know  you,"  brought  me  to  my  senses. 

"  I  was  in  last  week,"  I  answered,  gasping  with  eager- 
ness. 

"Then  you  were  one  too  many,"  the  doorkeeper 
retorted,  thrnsting  me  back  without  mercy.  "  This  is 
not  a  tradesman's  ordinary.     It  is  for  your  betters." 

"  But  I  was  in,"  I  cried,  desperately.  "I  was  in  last 
week." 

"  Well,  you  will  not  go  in  again,"  lie  answered  coolly. 
"For  the  lady,  it  is  different.  Pass  in,  mistress,"  he 
continued,  withdrawing  his  arm  that  she  might  pass,  and 
looking  at  her  with  an  impudent  leer.  "  I  can  never 
refuse  a  pretty  face.  And  I  will  bet  a  guinea  that  there 
is  one  beliind  that  mask." 

On  which,  to  my  astonishment,  and  while  I  stood  agape 
between  rage  and  shame,  my  mistress,  with  a  hurried 
word — that  might  stand  for  a  farewell,  or  might  have 
been  merely  a  request  to  me  to  wait,  for  I  could  not  catch 
it — accepted  the  invitation;  and  deserting  me  without  the 
least  sign  of  remorse,  passed  in  and  disappeared.  For  a 
moment  I  could  scarcely,  thus  abandoned,  believe  my 
senses  or  that  she  had  left  me;  then,  the  iron  of  her 
ingratitude  entering  into  my  soul,  and  a  gentleman  tap- 
ping me  imperatively  on  the  shoulder  and  saying  that  I 
blocked  the  way,  I  was  fain  to  turn  aside,  and  plunge  into 
the  darkness,  to  hide  the  sobs  I  could  no  longer  restrain. 

For  a  time,  leaning  my  forehead  against  a  house  in  a 
side  alley,  I  called  her  all  the  names  in  the  world;  reflect- 
ing bitterly  at  Avhose  expense  she  was  here,  and  at  what  a 
price  I  had  bought  her  pleasure.  Nor,  it  may  be  thought, 
was  I  likely  to  find  excuses  for  her  soon.  But  a  lover,  as 
he  can  weave  his  unhappiness  out  of  the  airiest  trifles,  so 
from  very  gossamer  can  he  spin  comfort;  nor  was  it  long 
before  I  considered  the  necessity  under  which  Ave  lay  to 
4 


50  SHREWSBURY 

play  and  win,  and  bethought  me  that,  instead  of  finding 
fault  with  her  for  entering  alone,  I  should  aj^plaud  the 
prudence  that  at  a  pinch  had  borne  this  steadily  in  mind. 
After  which,  believing  what  I  hoped,  I  soon  ceased  to 
reproach  her;  and  jealousy  giving  way  to  suspense — since 
all  for  me  now  depended  on  the  issues  of  gain  or  loss — I 
hastened  to  return  to  the  door,  and  hung  about  it  in  the 
hojie  of  seeing  her  appear. 

This  she  did  not  do  for  some  time,  but  the  interval 
and  my  thoughts  were  diverted  by  a  rencontre  as  disagree- 
able as  it  was  unexpected.  In  my  solitary  condition  I 
had  made  so  few  acquaintances  in  Hertford,  that  I  fancied 
I  stood  in  no  fear  of  being  recognised.  I  was  vastly 
taken  aback  therefore,  when  a  gentleman  plainly  dressed, 
ha2:)pening  to  pause  an  instant  on  the  threshold  as  he 
issued  from  the  inn,  let  Lis  glance  rest  on  me;  and  after 
a  second  look  stepped  directly  to  me,  and  with  a  sour 
aspect,  asked  me  what  I  did  in  that  place. 

Then,  when  it  was  too  late,  I  took  fright;  recognising 
him  for  a  gentleman  of  a  good  estate  in  the  neighbour- 
hood,   who   had  two   sons   at   Mr.   D 's  school,  and 

enjoyed  great  influence  with  my  master,  he  being  by  far 
the  most  important  of  his  patrons.  As  he  belonged  to 
the  fanatical  party,  and  in  common  with  most  of  that 
sect  had  been  a  violent  Exclusionist,  I  as  little  exjiected  to 
see  him  in  that  company,  as  he  to  see  me.  But  whereas 
he  was  his  own  master,  and  besides  was  there — this  I 
learned  afterwards — to  rescue  a  young  relative,  while  I 
had  no  such  excuse,  he  had  nothing  to  fear  and  I  all. 
I  found  myself,  therefore,  ready  to  sink  with  confusion; 
and  even  when  he  repeated  his  challenge  could  find  no 
words  in  which  to  answer. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  nodding  grimly  at  that.  "  Per- 
haps Mr.  D may  be  able  to  answer  me.     I  shall  take 

care  to  visit  him  to-morrow,  sir,  and  learn  whether  he  is 
aware  how  his  usher  employs  his  nights.     Good  evening. " 


SHREWSBURY  51 

So  saying,  he  left  me  horribly  startled,  and  a  prey  to 
apprehensions,  which  were  not  lessened  by  the  guilt,  that 
already  lay  on  my  conscience  in  another  and  more  serious 
matter.  For  such  is  the  common  course  of  ill-doing;  to 
plunge  a  man,  I  mean,  deeper  and  deeper  in  the  mire. 
I  now  saw  not  one  ridge  of  trouble  only  before  me,  but  a 
second  and  a  third ;  and  no  visible  way  of  escape  from 
the  consequences  of  my  imprudence.  To  add  to  my 
fears,  the  gentleman  on  leaving  me  joined  the  same  cour- 
tier Avho  had  spoken  to  Dorinda  on  the  occasion  of  our 
former  visit,  and  who  had  just  come  out;  so  that  to  my 
prepossessed  mind  nothing  seemed  more  probable  than 
that  the  latter  would  tell  him  in  whose  company  he  had 
seen  me  and  the  details  of  our  adventure.  As  a  fact,  it 
was  from  this  person's  clutches  my  master's  patron  was 
here  to  rescue  his  nephew.  But  I  did  not  know  this;  and 
seeking  in  my  panic  to  be  reassured,  I  asked  a  servant 
beside  me  who  the  stranger  was. 

"He?"  he  said.  "Oh,  he  is  a  gentleman  from  the 
TemjDle.  Been  playing  with  him?"  and  he  looked  at 
me,  askance. 

"No,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,"  he  replied,  "  the  better  for  you." 

"  But  what  is  his  name  ?  "  I  urged. 

"  Who  does  not  know  Mat.  Smith,  Esquire,  of  the 
Temple,  is  a  country  booby — and  that  is  you!  "  the  man 
retorted  quickly;  and  went  ofE  laughing.  Still  this, 
seeing  that  I  did  not  know  the  name,  relieved  me  a  little; 
and  the  next  moment  I  was  aware  of  Dorinda  waiting  for 
me  at  the  door.  Deducing  from  the  smile  that  played 
on  her  countenance  the  happiest  omens  of  success,  I 
forgot  my  other  troubles  in  the  relief  which  this  prom- 
ised; and  I  sprang  to  meet  her.  Guiding  her  as  quickly 
as  I  could  through  the  crowd,  I  asked  her  the  instant  I 
could  find  voice  to  speak,  what  luck  she  had  had. 

"  What  luck?  "  she  cried;  and  then  pettishly,  "  there. 


52  SHREWSBURY 

clumsy!  you  are  pulliug  me  into  that  puddle.  Have  a 
care  of  my  new  shoes,  will  you  ?  What  luck,  did  you 
say?     Why,  none  !  " 

''  What?  You  have  not  lost?  "  I  exclaimed,  standing 
still  in  the  road ;  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  heart  stood 
still  also. 

"  Yes,  but  I  have!  "  she  answered  hardily. 

"All?"  I  groaned. 

"Yes,  all!  If  you  call  two  guineas  all,"  she  replied 
carelessly.  "Why,  you  are  not  going  to  cry  for  two 
guineas,  baby,  are  you  ?  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

But  I  was  going  to  cry  and  did,  breaking  down  like  a 
child ;  and  that  not  so  much  at  the  thought  of  the  des- 
perate strait  to  which  she  had  brought  me — though  this 
was  no  other  than  the  felon's  dock,  with  the  prospect  of 
disgrace,  and  to  be  whip23ed  or  burned  in  the  hand,  at 
the  best,  and  if  I  had  my  benefit — but  at  the  sudden  con- 
viction, which  came  upon  me,  perfect  and  overwhelming, 
that  my  mistress,  for  whom  I  had  risked  so  much,  did 
not  love  me!  In  no  other  way,  and  on  no  other  theory, 
could  I  explain  callousness  so  complete,  thoughtlessness 
so  cruel !  Nor  did  her  next  words  tend  to  heal  the  mis- 
chief, or  give  me  comfort. 

"  Oh!  "  she  exclaimed,  flouncing  from  me  with  impa- 
tient contempt,  and  walking  on  the  other  side  of  the  way, 
"  if  you  are  going  to  be  a  cry-baby,  thank  you  for 
nothing!  I  thought  you  were  a  man!  "  And  she  began 
to  hum  an  air. 

"  My  God!  I  don't  think  you  care!  "  I  sobbed,  aghast 
at  her  insensibility. 


SHREWSBURY  53 

"Care?"  she  retorted  indifferently,  swinging  her 
visor  in  her  hand.     "  For  what  ?  " 

"  For  me!     Or  for  anything!  " 

With  a  coolness  that  appalled  me,  she  finished  the  verse 
she  was  humming;  then,  "Your  finger  hurts,  therefore 
you  are  going  to  die!  "  she  said,  with  a  sneer.  "  You  see 
the  fire  and  therefore  you  must  be  burned.  Why,  you 
have  the  courage  of  a  hen!  A  flea!  A  mouse!  Y"ou  are 
not  worthy  the  name  of  a  man." 

"  I  am  man  enough  to  be  hanged,"  I  answered  miser- 
ably. 

"Hanged?"  quoth  she,  quite  cheerfully.  "  Do  you 
think  that  man  was  ever  hanged  for  three  guineas?  " 

"  Ay,  scores,"  I  said,  "  and  for  less!  " 

"Then  they  must  have  been  cravens  like  you!"  she 
retorted,  perfectly  well  satisfied  with  her  answer.  "And 
Slum  their  own  ropes.  Come,  silly,  cheer  up!  A  great 
many  things  may  happen  in  a  week !  And  if  that  vixen 
is  back  under  a  week,  I  will  eat  her!  " 

"  A  week  won't  make  three  guineas,"  I  said  dolefully. 

"  No,  but  a  good  heart  will,"  she  rejoined.  "  And  not 
three  but  thirty!  Ouly,"  she  continued,  looking  askance 
at  me,  "  you  have  not  the  spirit  of  a  man.  You  are  just 
Tumbledown  Dick,  as  they  say,  and  as  well  named  as 
nine-pence!  " 

It  seemed  inconceivable  to  me  that  she  could  jest  so 
merrily  and  carry  herself  so  gaily,  after  such  a  loss;  and 
I  stopped  short  in  sudden  hope  and  new-born  expectation; 
and  peered  at  her,  striving  to  read  her  thoughts.  "  I 
don't  believe  you  have  lost  them!  "  I  exclaimed  at  last. 

"  Every  groat,  Dick!"  she  answered,  curtly — yet  still 
in  the  best  of  spirits.     "  Never  doubt  that!  " 

On  which  it  was  not  wonderful  that  my  disappoint- 
ment and  her  cheerfulness  agreed  so  ill,  that  we  came 
to  bitter  words,  and  beginning  by  calling  one  another 
"Thankless,"  and  "Clutch-penny,"  rose   presently  to 


54  SHREWSBURY 

"Fool,"  and  "Jade";  and  eventually  parted  on  the 
latter  at  the  garden  fence;  where  Dorinda,  so  far  from 
lingering  as  on  the  former  night,  flounced  from  me  in  a 
passion,  and  left  me  without  a  single  word  of  regret. 
How  miserably  after  that  I  stole  to  bed,  and  how  wake- 
fully  I  tossed  in  the  close  garret,  I  cannot  hope  to  convey 
to  my  readers;  suffice  it  that  a  hundred  times  I  cursed 
the  folly  that  had  led  me  to  ruin,  a  hundred  times  went 
hot  and  cold  at  thought  of  the  dock  and  the  gallows; 
and  yet  amid  all  found  in  Dorinda's  heartlessness  the 
sharpest  pain.  I  felt  sure  now,  and  told  myself  con- 
tinually, that  she  had  never  loved  me;  therefore — at  the 
time  it  seemed  to  follow — I  deemed  my  own  love  at  an 
end  and  cast  her  off;  and  heaping  the  sharpest  reproaches 
on  her  head,  /ound  my  one  sweet  consolation — whereat  I 
wept  miserably — in  composing  a  last  dying  speech  and 
confession  that  should  soften  at  length  that  obdurate 
bosom,  and  break  that  unfeeling  heart. 

But  with  the  day,  and  the  rising  to  imminent  terrors 
and  hourly  fear  of  detection,  came  first  regret,  then  self- 
reproach — lest  I  too  should  be  somewhat  in  fault — then  a 
revival  of  passion;  lastly,  a  frantic  yearning  to  be  recon- 
ciled to  the  only  person  to  whom  I  could  speak  freely,  or 
who  knew  the  danger  and  strait  in  which  I  stood.  My 
heart  melting  like  water  at  the  thought,  I  was  ready  to 
do  anything  or  say  anything,  to  abase  myself  to  any  depth, 
in  order  to  regain  her  favour  and  have  her  advice;  and 

the  absence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  D ,  and  Mrs.  Harris's 

easiness  rendering  it  a  matter  of  no  difficulty  to  seek  her, 
in  the  course  of  the  afternoon  I  took  my  courage  in  my 
hands  and  went  into  the  next  house.  There  I  found  only 
Mrs.  Harris. 

"  The  little  slut  has  stepped  out,"  she  said,  looking  up 
from  the  pot  over  which  she  was  stooping.  "  She  asked 
leave  for  half  an  hour  and  has  been  gone  an  hour.  But 
it  is  the  way  of  the  wenches  all  the  world  over.     Do  you 


SHREWSBURY  55 

beware  of  them,  Mr.  Price/'  she  continued,  eyeing  me, 
and  laughing  jollily. 

I  made  some  trifling  answer;  and  returning  to  my  own 
domain,  with  all  the  pangs  of  loneliness  added  to  those  of 
terror,  sat  down  in  the  dingy,  dreary  taskroom  and  aban- 
doned myself  to  bitter  forebodings.  She  did  not,  she 
never  could  have  loved  me!  I  knew  it  and  felt  it  now. 
Yet  I  must  think  of  her  or  go  mad.  I  must  think  of  her 
or  of  the  cart  and  cord;  and  so,  through  the  hours  that 
followed,  I  had  only  eyes  for  the  next  garden,  and  ears 
for  her  voice.  The  boys  and  their  chattering,  and  the 
necessity  I  was  under  of  playing  my  part  before  them, 
well-nigh  mastered  me.     For,  at  any  hour,  on  any  day, 

while   I   sat  there  among  them,  Mr.    and   Mrs.  D 

might  return,  and  the  loss  be  discovered ;  and  yet,  and 
though  time  was  everything,  all  the  efforts  I  made  to 
see  Jennie  or  get  speech  with  her  failed ;  and  of  myself 
I  seemed  to  be  unable  to  think  out  any  plan  or  way  of 
escape. 

I  am  sure  that  the  most  ascetic,  could  he  have  weighed 
the  tortures  of  those  four  days  during  which  I  sat  sur- 
rounded by  the  boys,  and  now  making  frantic  efforts  to 
appear  myself,  now  sunk  in  a  staring,  pale-faced  lethargy 
of  despair,  would  have  deemed  them  a  punishment  more 
than  commensurate  with  my  guilt.      The  unusual  air  of 

peace  and  quietness  with  which  Mrs.   D 's  absence 

invested  the  school  had  no  more  power  to  soothe  me  than 
the  presence  of  Mrs.  Harris,  nodding  over  her  plain -stitch 
in  the  next  garden,  availed  to  banish  the  burning  gusts 
of  fear  that  at  times  parched  my  skin.  At  length,  on 
the  fifth  day,  the  immediate  warning  of  coming  judgment 
arrived  in  the  shape  of  a  letter  announcing  that  my 
employer  would  return  (D.Y.)  by  the  night  waggon, 
which  in  the  ordinary  course  was  due  to  reach  Ware 
about  six  next  morning. 

At  that  I  could  stand  the  strain  no  longer,  but  flinging 


56  SHREWSBURY 

appearance  and  deception  to  the  winds,  I  rose  from  the 
class  I  was  pretending  to  teach,  and  in  a  disorder  I  made 
no  effort  to  suppress,  followed  Mrs.  Harris;  who,  having 
declared  the  news,  was  already  waddling  back  to  the  next 
house.  She  started  at  sight  of  me  in  her  train — as  she 
well  might,  for  it  was  the  busiest  time  of  the  day;  then 
asked  if  anything  ailed  me. 

"  No,"  I  said.     "  I  want  a  word  with  Jennie." 

"  Do  you  ?  "  quoth  she,  looking  hard  at  me.  "  So,  it 
would  seem,  do  a  good  many  young  fellows.  She  is  a 
nice  handful  if  ever  there  was  one." 

"  Why  ?  "  I  stammered. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  answered  in  a  tone  very  sharp  for  her. 
"Why,  because — but  what  have  you  to  do  with  Jennie, 
young  man?  " 

"Nothing,"  I  said. 

"Then  have  nothing,"  she  answered  promptly,  and 
shook  her  sides  at  her  sharpness.  "That  is  no  puzzle! 
And  as  it  is  no  more  than  half -past  ten,  and  I  hear  your 
boys  rampaging  like  so  many  wild  Irishmen — suppose 
you  go  back  to  them,  young  man!  " 

I  obeyed;  but  whatever  effect  her  warning  might  have 
had  earlier — and  I  shrewdly  suspect  that  it  would  have 
affected  me  as  much  as  water  affects  a  duck's  back — it 
came  too  late;  my  one  desire  now  being  to  see  the  girl, 
even  as  my  one  hope  lay  in  her  advice.  Nine  had  struck 
that  evening,  however,  and  night  had  fallen,  and  I  grown 
fairly  sick  with  fear,  before  my  efforts  were  rewarded, 
and  stealing  into  the  garden  on  a  hist  desperate  search — 
I  think  for  the  twentieth  time — I  came  on  her  standing 
in  the  dusk,  beside  the  fence  where  I  had  so  often  met  her. 

I  sj^rang  to  her  side,  relief  at  my  heart,  reproaches  on 
my  lips;  but  it  was  only  to  recoil  at  sight  of  her  face, 
grown  hard  and  old  and  pinched,  and  for  the  moment 
almost  ngly.  "Why,  child!"  I  cried,  forgetting  my 
own  trouble.     "What  is  it?" 


SHREWSBURY  57 

She  laughed  without  mirth,  looking  at  me  strangely. 
"  "What  do  you  sujipose  ?  "  she  said  huskily,  and  I  could 
see  that  fear  was  on  her.  "  Do  you  think  that  you  are 
the  only  one  in  danger  ?  " 

"  How  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"How?"  she  replied  in  a  tone  of  mockery.  "Why, 
do  you  suppose  that  stockings  and  shoes  are  the  only 
things  that  cost  money  ?  Or  that  vizor  masks,  and  gloves 
and  hoods  grow  on  bushes  ?  Briefly,  fool,  if  you  can  give 
me  four  guineas,  I  am  saved.     If  not " 

"  My  God!  "  I  cried,  horror-stricken. 

"H  not,"  she  continued  hardily,  "you  have  taught 
me  to  read,  and  that  may  save  my  neck.  I  suppose  I 
shall  be  sent  to  the  plantations,  to  be  beaten  weekly,  and 
work  in  the  sun,  and " 

"  Four  guineas!  "  I  groaned. 

"Yes,  seven  in  all!"  she  answered  with  a  sneer. 
"  Have  you  got  them  ?  " 

"No,  nor  a  groat!  "  I  answered,  overwhelmed  by  the 
discovery  that  instead  of  giving  help  she  needed  it. 
"INTot  a  penny!  " 

"  Then  it  must  be  got!  "  she  answered  fiercely.  "  It 
must  be  got!  "  and  as  she  repeated  the  words,  she  dropped 
her  mocking  tone,  and  spoke  with  feverish  energy.  "  It 
must  be  got,  Dick!  "  and  she  seized  my  hands  and  held 
them.  "It  must  be,  and  can  be,  if  you  have  a  spark  of 
spirit,  if  you  are  not  the  poor  mean  thing  I  sometimes 
think  you.  Listen!  Listen!  In  the  old  man's  room 
upstairs — the  door  is  locked  and  double-locked,  I  have 
tried  it — are  sixty  guineas,  in  a  bag!  Sixty  guineas,  in  a 
drawer  of  the  old  bureau  by  the  bed!  " 

"It  is  death,"  I  cried  feebly,  recoiling  from  her  as  I 
spoke.     "  It  is  death!     I  dare  not!     I  dare  not  do  it!  " 


a 


Then  we  hang!  We  haug,  man!"  she  answered 
fiercely.  "  You  and  I!  Will  it  be  better  to  hang  for  a 
lamb  than  a  sheep  ?     For  seven  guineas  than  for  sixty  ?  " 


58  SHREWSBURY 

"  But  if  we  take  it,  what  shall  we  be  the  better  for 
it?  "  I  said  weakly.     "  He  returns  in  the  morning." 

"  By  the  morning,  given  the  money,  we  shall  be  a  score 
of  miles  away!"  she  answered,  flinging  her  arms  round 
my  neck,  and  hanging  on  my  breast,  while  her  hot  breath 
fanned  my  cheek.  No  wonder  I  felt  my  brain  reel,  and 
my  will  melt.  '"'Away  from  here,  Dick,"  she  repeated 
softly.     "  Away — and  together!  " 

Yet  I  made  an  effort  to  withstand  her.  "  You  forget 
the  door,"  I  said.  "If  the  door  is  locked,  and  Mrs. 
Harris  sleeps  in  the  next  room,  how  can  it  be  done  ?  " 

"Not  by  the  door,  but  by  the  window,"  she  replied. 
"  There  is  a  ladder  in  the  second  garden  from  this;  and 
the  latch  of  the  window  is  weak.  The  old  fool  indoors 
sleeps  like  a  hog.  By  eleven  she  will  be  sound.  And  oh, 
Dick !"  my  mistress  cried,  breaking  down  on  a  sudden 
and  snatching  my  hands  to  her  bosom,  "  will  you  see  me 
shamed  ?  Play  the  man  for  ten  minutes  only — for  ten 
minutes  only,  and  by  morning  we  shall  be  safe,  and  far 
from  here!     And — and  together,  Dick!     Together!" 

Was  it  likely,  I  ask,  was  it  possible  that  I  should  long 
resist  pleading  such  as  this  ?  That  holding  her  in  my 
arms,  in  the  warm  summer  night,  with  her  hair  on  my 
breast,  while  the  moon  sailed  overhead  and  a  cricket 
chirped  in  the  wall  hard  by — was  it  likely  or  possible, 
I  say,  that  I  should  steel  my  heart  against  her;  that  I 
should  turn  from  the  cup  of  pleasure,  who  had  tasted  as 
yet  so  few  delights,  and  drudged  and  been  stinted  all  my 
life  ?  Whose  appetite  had  known  no  daintier  relish  than 
the  dull  round  of  dumpling  and  bacon,  or  at  the  best  salt 
meat  and  spinach;  and  who  for  sole  companionship  had 
been  shut  in,  June  days  and  December  nights  alike,  with 
a  band  of  mischievous  boys,  whom  the  ancients  justly 
called  genus  improiuni.  At  any  rate  I  did  not;  to  my 
shame,  great  or  small,  according  as  I  shall  be  harshly  or 
charitably  judged— I  did  not;    but  with  a  beating  heart 


SHREWSBURY  59 

and  choked  voice,  I  gave  my  word  and  left  her  ;  and  an 
hour  later  I  crept  down  the  creaking  stairs  for  the  last 
time,  guilty  and  shivering,  a  bundle  in  my  hand,  and 
found  her  waiting  for  me  in  the  old  place. 

I  confess  that  the  flurry  of  my  spirits  in  this  crisis  was 
such  as  to  disturb  my  Judgment;  and  my  passion  for  my 
mistress  being  no  longer  of  the  higher  kind,  these  two 
things-may  account  for  the  fact  that  I  felt  no  wonder  or 
repulsion  when  she  explained  to  me,  coolly  and  in  detail, 
where  the  bureau  stood,  and  in  what  part  of  it  lay  the 
money;  even  adding  that  I  had  better  bring  away  a  pair 
of  silver  candlesticks  which  I  should  find  in  another 
place.  By  the  time  she  had  made  these  things  clear  to 
me,  the  favourable  moment  Avas  come;  the  lights  of  the 
town  had  long  been  extinguished,  and  the  house  obscur- 
ing the  moon  cast  a  black  shadow  on  the  garden,  that 
greatly  seconded  our  movements.  Yet  for  myself,  and 
though  all  went  well  with  us,  I  trembled  at  the  faintest 
sonnd,  and  started  if  a  leaf  stirred;  nay,  to  this  day  I 
willingly  believe  that  the  smallest  trifle,  a  light  at  a  win- 
dow or  a  distant  voice,  would  have  deterred  me  from  the 
adventure.  But  nothing  occurred  to  hinder  or  alarm; 
and  the  darkness  cloaking  us  only  too  effectually,  and 
my  accomplice  directing  me  where  to  find  the  ladder,  I 
fetched  it,  and  with  her  help  thrust  it  over  the  fence  and 
climbed  over  after  it. 

This  was  a  small  thing,  the  worst  being  to  come.  The 
part  of  the  garden  under  the  wall  of  the  house  was 
paved;  it  was  only  with  the  greatest  exertion  therefore 
and  the  utmost  care  that  we  could  raise  the  ladder  on  it 
without  noise;  and  but  for  the  surprising  strength  which 
Jennie  showed,  I  doubt  if  we  should  have  succeeded,  my 
hands  trembled  so  violently.  In  the  end  we  raised  it, 
however;  the  upj)er  part  fell  lightly  beside  the  second 
fioor  casement,  and  Jennie  whispered  to  me  to  ascend. 

I  had  gone  too  far  now  to  retreat,  and  I  obeyed,  and 


60  SHREWSBURY 

had  mounted  two  steps,  when  I  heard  distinctly — the 
sound  coming  sharp  and  clear  through  the  night — the 
shod  hoof  of  a  horse  paw  the  ground,  apparently  in  the 
road  beyond  the  house.  Scared  by  such  a  sound  at  such  a 
time,  I  slid  rapidly  down  into  Jennie's  arms.  "  Hush!  " 
I  cried.  "Did  you  hear  that?  There  is  someone 
there!" 

But  angered  by  my  sudden  descent  which  had  come 
near  to  knocking  her  down,  she  whispered  in  a  rage  that 
I  Avas  either  the  biggest  fool  or  the  poorest  craven  in  the 
world.  "Go  up!  Go  up!"  she  continued  fiercely, 
almost  striking  me  in  her  excitement.  "  There  are  sixty 
guineas  awaiting  us  up  there — sixty  guineas,  man,  and 
you  budge,  because  a  horse  stirs." 

"  But  what  is  it  doing  there?  "  I  remonstrated.  "  A 
horse,  Jennie — at  this  time  of  night!  " 

"  God  knows!  "  she  answered.     "  What  is  it  to  us ?  " 

Still  I  lingered  a  moment,  unwilling  to  ascend;  but 
hearing  nothing,  and  thinking  I  might  have  been  mis- 
taken, I  was  ashamed  to  hang  back  longer,  and  I  went 
uj),  though  my  legs  trembled  under  me,  and  a  bird  dart- 
ing suddenly  out  of  the  ivy  glued  me  to  the  ladder  by 
both  hands,  with  the  sweat  standing  out  on  my  face. 
Alone,  nothing  on  earth  would  have  persuaded  me  to  it; 
but  with  Jennie  below  I  dared  not  flinch,  and  the  latch 
of  the  window  proving  as  weak  as  she  had  described  it, 
in  a  moment  the  lattice  swung  open  and  I  climbed  over 
the  sill. 

Feeling  the  floor  with  my  feet,  I  stood  an  instant  in 
the  dark  stuffy  room,  and  listened.  It  smelled  strongly 
of  herbs,  on  which  account  I  hate  that  smell  to  this  day. 
I  could  hear  Mrs.  Harris  snoring  next  door;  and  the  pen- 
dulum of  the  fine  new  clock  on  the  stairs,  which  was 
Mrs.  D 's  latest  pride,  was  swinging  to  and  fro  regu- 
larly; and  I  knew  that  at  the  slightest  alarm  the  house 
would  be  awake.     But  I  had  gone  too  far  to  recede;  and 


SHREWSBURY  61 

though  I  feared  and  sweated,  and  at  the  touch  of  a  hand 
must  have  screamed  aloud,  I  went  forward  and  groping 
my  way  across  the  floor,  found  the  bureau,  and  tried  the 
drawer. 

It  was  locked,  but  crazily;  and  Jennie  foreseeing  the 
obstacle  had  given  me  a  chisel.  Inserting  the  point,  I 
listened  awhile  to  assure  myself  that  all  was  quiet,  and 
then  with  the  resolution  of  despair  forced  the  drawer 
open  with  a  single  Avrench.  Probably  the  noise  was  no 
great  one,  but  to  my  ears  it  rang  through  the  night 
loud  as  the  crack  of  laden  ice.  I  heard  the  sleeper  in 
the  next  room  cease  her  snoring  and  turn  in  the  bed;  and 
cowering  down  on  the  floor  I  gave  up  all  for  lost.  But 
in  a  moment  she  began  to  breathe  again,  and  encouraged 
by  that  and  the  silence  in  the  house,  I  drew  the  drawer 
open,  and  feeling  for  the  bag,  discovered  it,  and  clutch- 
ing it  firmly,  turned  to  the  window. 

I  found  that  Jennie  had  mounted  the  ladder,  and  was 
looking  into  the  room,  her  hands  on  the  sill,  her  head 
dark  against  the  sky.  "Have  you  got  it ?"  she  whis- 
pered, thrusting  in  her  arm  and  groping  for  me.  ''  Then 
give  it  me  while  you  get  the  candlesticks.  They  are 
wrapped  in  flannel,  and  are  under  the  bed." 

I  gave  her  the  bag,  which  chinked  as  it  passed  from 
hand  to  hand ;  then  I  turned  obediently,  and  groping  my 
way  to  the  bed  which  stood  beside  the  bureau,  I  felt 
under  it.  I  found  nothing,  but  did  not  at  once  give  up. 
The  candlesticks  might  lie  on  the  farther  side,  and 
accordingly  I  rose  and  climbed  over  the  bed  and  tried 
again,  passing  my  hands  through  the  flue  and  dust  which 
had  gathered  under  Mrs.  D 's  best  feather-bed. 

How  long  I  might  have  searched  in  the  dark,  and 
vainly,  I  cannot  say;  for  my  efforts  were  brought  to  a 
premature  end  by  a  dull  thud  that  came  to  my  ears  appar- 
ently from  the  next  room.  Certain  that  it  could  be  caused 
by  nothing  less  than  Mrs.    Harris  getting  out  of  bed,  I 


62  SHREWSBURY 

crawled  out,  and  got  to  my  feet  in  a  panic,  and  stood  in 
the  dark  quaking  and  listening;  so  terrified  that  I  am 
sure  if  the  good  woman  had  entered  at  that  moment,  I 
should  have  fallen  on  my  knees  before  her,  and  confessed 
all.  Nothing  followed,  however;  the  house  remained 
quiet;  I  heard  no  second  sound.  But  my  nerve  was 
gone.  I  wanted  nothing  so  much  now  as  to  be  out  of  the 
place;  not  for  a  thousand  guineas  would  I  have  stayed; 
and  Avithout  giving  another  thought  to  the  candlesticks, 
I  groped  my  way  to  the  window,  and  passing  one  leg  over 
the  sill,  felt  hurriedly  for  the  ladder. 

I  failed  to  find  it,  and  tried  again;  then  peering  down 
called  Jennie  by  name.  She  did  not  answer.  A  second 
time  I  called,  and  felt  about  with  my  foot;  still  without 
success.  Then  as  it  dawned  upon  me  at  last  that  the 
ladder  was  really  gone,  and  I  a  prisoner,  I  thought  of 
prudence  no  longer,  but  I  called  frantically,  at  first  in  a 
whisper,  and  then  as  loudly  as  I  dared;  called  and  called 
again,  "  Jennie!     Jennie!  "     And  yet  again,  ''  Jennie!  " 

Still  no  answer  came;  but  listening  intently,  in  one  of 
the  intervals  of  silence,  I  caught  the  even  beat  of  hoofs, 
receding  along  the  road,  and  growing  each  moment  less 
marked.  They  held  me;  scarcely  breathing,  I  listened 
to  them,  until  they  died  away  in  the  distance  of  the 
summer  night,  and  only  the  sharp  insistent  chirp  of  the 
cricket,  singing  in  the  garden  below,  came  to  my  ears. 


CHAPTEE  VII 

How  long  I  hung  at  the  window,  at  one  time  stunned 
and  stricken  down  by  the  catastrophe  that  had  befallen 
me,  and  at  another  feeling  frantically  for  the  ladder 
which  I  had  over  and  over  again  made  sure  was  not  there. 


SHREWSBURY  63 

I  know  no  more  than  another;  but  only  that  after  a  time, 
first  suspicion  and  then  rage  darted  lightning-like  through 
the  stupor  that  clouded  my  mind,  and  I  awoke  to  all  the 
tortures  that  love  outraged  by  treachery  can  feel;  with 
such  pangs  and  terrors  added  as  only  a  faithful  beast, 
bound  and  doomed  and  writhing  under  the  knife  of  its 
master,  may  be  supposed  to  endure. 

For  a  while,  it  is  true,  imagining  that  Jennie,  terrified 
by  someone's  approach,  had  lowered  the  ladder  and 
withdrawn  herself,  and  so  would  presently  return  to  free 
me,  I  hoped  against  hope.  But  as  minutes  passed,  and 
yet  more  minutes,  laden  only  with  the  cricket's  even 
chirp,  and  the  creepy  rustling  of  the  wind  in  the  poplars, 
and  still  failed  to  bring  her,  the  sound  of  retreating  hoofs 
which  I  had  heard  recurred  to  my  mind,  with  dreadful 
significance,  and  on  the  top  of  it  a  hundred  sus^^icious 
circumstances;  among  which,  as  her  sudden  passion  when 
I  had  taken  fright  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  was  not  the 
least,  so  her  avoidance  of  me  during  the  last  few  days  and 
her  frequent  absences  from  the  house,  spoken  to  by  Mrs. 
Harris,  had  their  weight.  In  fine,  by  the  light  of  her 
desertion  after  receiving  the  plunder,  and  while  I  sought 
the  candlesticks — which  I  had  now  convinced  myself  were 
not  there — many  things  obscure  before,  or  to  which  I  had 
wilfully  shut  my  eyes — as  her  callousness,  her  greed,  her 
recklessness — stood  out  plainly;  while  these  again,  being 
coolly  considered,  reflected  so  seriously  on  her,  as  to  give 
her  sudden  departure  the  worst  possible  apjDearance, 
even  in  a  lover's  eyes.  The  days  had  been  when  I  would 
not  have  believed  such  a  thing  of  her  at  the  mouth  of  an 
angel  from  Heaven.  But  much  had  happened  since,  to 
which  my  passion  had  blinded  me,  temporarily  only;  so 
that  it  needed  but  a  flash  of  searing  light  to  make  all  clear, 
and  convince  me  that  she  had  not  only  left  me,  but  left  me 
trapped — I  who  had  given  u^)  all  and  risked  all  for  her! 

In  the  first  agony  of  pain  and  rage  wrought  by  a  con- 


64  SHREWSBURY 

viction  so  horrible,  I  could  think  only  of  her  treachery 
and  my  loss;  and  head  to  knees  on  the  bare  floor  of  the 
room,  I  wept  as  if  my  heart  would  break,  or  choked  with 
the  sobs  that  seemed  to  rend  my  breast.  And  little  won- 
der, seeing  that  I  had  given  her  a  boy's  first  devotion,  and 
that  of  all  sins  ingratitude  has  the  sharpest  tooth!  But 
to  this  paroxysm,  when  I  had  nearly  exhausted  myself, 
came  an  end  and  an  antidote  in  the  shape  of  urgent  fear; 
which  suddenly  flooding  my  soul,  roused  me  from  my 
apathy  of  grief,  and  set  me  to  pacing  the  room  in  a  dread- 
ful panic,  trying  now  the  door  and  now  the  window.  But 
on  both  my  attacks  were  in  vain,  the  former  being  locked 
and  resisting  the  chisel,  while  the  latter  hung  thirty  feet 
above  the  paved  yard. 

Thus  caught  and  snared,  as  neatly  as  any  bird  in  a 
sjiringe,  I  had  no  resource  but  in  my  wits;  and  for  a  time, 
as  I  had  nothing  of  which  I  could  form  a  rope,  I  busied 
myself  with  the  expedient  of  throwing  out  the  feather- 
bed and  leaping  upon  it.  But  when  I  had  dragged  it  to 
the  window,  and  came  to  measure  the  depth,  I  recoiled, 
as  the  most  desperate  might,  from  the  leap;  and  softly 
returning  the  bed  to  its  place,  I  fell  to  biting  my  nails,  or 
fitfully  roamed  from  place  to  place,  according  as  despair 
or  some  new  hope  possessed  me. 

In  one  or  other  of  these  moods  the  dawn  found  me; 
and  then  in  a  surprisingly  short  time  I  heard  the  dreaded 
sounds  of  life  awaken  round  me,  and  creeping  to  the  win- 
dow I  closed  it,  and  crouched  down  on  the  floor.  Pres- 
ently Mrs.  Harris  began  to  stir,  and  a  boy  walked  whis- 
tling shrilly  across  the  adjacent  yard;  and  then — strangest 
of  all  things,  and  not  to  be  invented — in  the  crisis  of  my 
fate,  with  the  feet  of  those  who  must  detect  me  almost 
on  the  stairs,  I  fell  asleep;  and  awoke  only  when  a  key 
grated  in  the  lock  of  the  room,  and  I  started  up  to  find 

Mr.  D in  the  doorway  staring  at  me,  and  behind  him 

a  crowd  of  piled-up  faces. 


SHREWSBURY  65 

"  Why,  Price?  "  he  cried,  with  a  look  of  stupefaction, 
as  he  came  slowly  into  the  room,  "  what  is  the  meaning 
of  this?" 

Then  I  suppose  my  shame  and  guilty  silence  told  him, 
for  with  a  sudden  scowl  and  an  oath  he  strode  to  the 
bureau  and  dragged  out  the  drawer.  A  glance  showed 
him  that  the  money  was  gone,  and  shouting  frantically  to 
those  at  the  door  to  keep  it — to  keep  it,  though  they  were 
half-a-dozen  to  one ! — he  clutched  me  by  the  breast  of  my 
coat,  and  shook  me  until  my  toetli  chattered. 

"  Give  it  up,"  he  cried,  spluttering  with  rage.  "  Give 
it  up,  you  beggar's  brat!  Or,  by  heaven,  you  shall  hang 
for  it." 

But  as  I  had  nothing  to  give  up,  and  could  not  speak, 
I  burst  into  tears;  which  with  the  odd  jiart  I  had  played 
in  staying  in  the  room  to  be  taken,  and  perhajis  my 
youth  and  innocent  air,  aroused  the  neighbours'  surprise; 
Avho,  crowding  round,  asked  him  solicitously  what  was 
missing.  He  answered  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  sixty 
guineas.  One  had  already  clapped  his  hands  over  my 
clothes,  and  another  had  forced  my  mouth  open;  but  on 
this  they  desisted,  and  stood,  full  of  admiration. 

"  He  cannot  have  swallowed  that,"  said  the  most  active, 
gaping  at  me. 

"No,  that  is  certain.  But  what  beats  me,"  said  an- 
other, looking  round,  "  is  how  he  got  here." 

"  To  say  nothing  of  why  he  stayed  here!  "  replied  the 
former. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  quoth  a  third,  shaking  his  head. 
"  There  is  some  hocus-pocus  in  this.  And  I  should  not 
wonder,  neighbours,  if  the  Catholics  were  at  the  bottom 
of  it!" 

The  theory  appeared  to  commend  itself  to  more  than 
one — for  tbey  were  all  of  the  fanatical  party;  but  it  was 

swept  to  the  winds  by  the  entrance  of  Mrs.  D ,  who 

having  heard  of  robbery,  came  in  like  a  whirlwind,  her 
5 


66  SHREWSBURY 

face  on  fire,  and  made  no  more  ado,  but  rushed  upon  me, 
and  tore  and  slapped  my  cheeks  with  all  her  might,  cry- 
ing with  each  blow,  "  You  nasty  thief,  will  that  teach  you 
better  manners  ?  That  for  your  roguery!  and  that  !  Oh, 
you  jail  bird,  I'll  teach  you!  " 

How  long  she  would  have  continued  to  chastise  me  I 
cannot  say,  but  her  husband  presently  stepped  in  to 
protect  me,  and  being  thoroughly  winded,  she  let  me  go 
pretty  willingly.  But  when  she  learned,  having  hitherto 
been  under  the  impression  that  I  had  been  seized  in  the 
act  with  the  money  upon  me,  that  the  latter  could  not 
be  found,  her  face  turned  yellow  and  she  sat  down  in  a 
chair. 

"  Have  you  searched  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Everywhere,"  the  neighbours  answered  her. 

"  He  must  have  thrown  it  through  the  window." 

They  shook  their  heads. 

On  that  she  jumped  up,  and  looked  at  me  with  a  cold 
spite  in  her  face  that  made  me  shiver.  "  Then  I  will  tell 
you  what  it  is,"  she  said,  ""  he  has  given  it  to  that  hussy, 
and  she  has  taken  it!  But  I  will  have  it  out  of  him; 
where  the  money  is,  and  she  is,  and  how  he  got  in !     Mr. 

D ,  when  you  have  done  standing  there  like  a  gaby, 

fetch  your  stoutest  cane;  and  do  you,  my  friends,  lay  him 
across  that  bed !  And  if  Ave  do  not  cut  it  out  of  his  skin, 
his  name  is  not  Eichard  Price.  I  wish  I  had  the  wench 
here,  and  I  would  serve  her  the  same!  " 

I  screamed,  and  fell  on  my  knees  as  they  laid  hands 

on  me;  but  Mrs.   D was  a  woman  without  bowels, 

and  the  men  were  complaisant  and  not  unwilling  to  see 
the  cruel  sport  of  the  usher  flogged,  and  the  schoolmaster 
disciplined;  and  it  would  have  gone  hard  with  me,  in 
spite  of  my  prayers,  if  the  constable  had  not  arrived  at 
that  moment,  and  requested  with  dignity  to  see  his  pris- 
oner. Introduced  to  me,  he  stared ;  and,  moved  I  believe 
by  an  impulse  of  pity,  said  I  was  young  to  hang. 


SHREWSBURY  67 

"  Ay,  but  not  too  good !  "  Mrs.  D answered  shrilly, 

her  head  trembling  with  passion.  "  He  and  the  hussy, 
that  is  gone,  have  robbed  me  of  eighty  guineas  in  a  green 
bag,  as  I  am  prepared  to  swear ! ' ' 

"Sixty,   Mrs.   D ,"  said  her    husband,    looking  a 

warning  at  her  and  then  askance  at  his  neighbours. 

"Rot  take  the  man,  does  it  matter  to  a  guinea  or 
two  ?  '■'  she  retorted — but  her  sallow  face  flushed  a  little. 
"At  any  rate,"  she  continued,  pressing  her  thin  lips 
together,  aud  nodding  her  head  viciously,  "sixty  or 
eighty,  they  have  taken  them." 

It  seemed,  however,  that  even  to  that  one  of  the  neigh- 
bours had  a  word  to  say.     "  As  to  the  girl,  I  am  not  so 

sure,  Mrs.  D ,"  he  struck  in  ponderously.     "  If  she  is 

the  wench  that  has  been  carrying  on  with  the  gentleman 
at  the  'Rose,'  she  has  had  other  fish  to  fry.  Though 
I  don't  say,  mind  you,  that  she  has  not  been  in  this. 
Only " 

But   Mrs.   D could    restrain   herself    no    longer. 

"Only!  only!  Gentlemen  at  the  Rose'!"  she  cried. 
"  Why,  man,  are  you  mad  ?  What  do  you  think  has  my 
maid — though  maid  she  is  not,  but  a  dirty  drab,  and 
more  is  the  pity  I  took  her  out  of  charity  from  the  parish 
— she  was  Kitty  Higgs's  base-born  brat  as  you  know — 
what  has  she  to  do  with  gentlemen  at  the  '  Rose  '  ?  " 

"  Well,  that  is  not  for  me  to  say,"  the  man  answered 
quietly.  "  Only  I  know  that  for  a  week  or  more  a  wench 
has  been  walking  with  the  gentleman  in  the  roads  and  so 
forth,  by  night  as  well  as  by  day.  I  came  on  them  twice 
myself  hard  by  here;  and  though  she  was  dressed  more 
like  a  fine  madam  than  a  serving  girl,  I  watched  her  into 
your  house.  And  for  the  rest,  Mrs.  Harris  must  know 
more  than  I  do." 

Bat  Mrs.  Harris,  when  Mrs.  D turned  on  her  in  a 

white  rage,  could  only  cover  her  head  and  weep  in  a  cor- 
ner; as  much,  I  believe,  out  of  sorrow  for  me  as  on  her 


G8  SHREWSBURY 

own  account.  However,  the  fact  that  the  good-natured 
woman  had  left  Jennie  pretty  much  to  her  own  devices 

could  not  be  gainsaid;  and  Mrs.  D had  much  to  say 

on  it.  But  when  she  talked  of  sending  after  the  baggage 
and  jailing  her,  ay,  and  the  gentleman  at  the  "Rose" 
too,  if  he  could  not  pay  the  money,  the  constable  pursed 
up  his  lips. 

"It  is  to  be  remembered  that  he  came  with  His  Royal 
Highness,  our  gracious  Prince,"  he  said,  swelling  out  his 
chest  and  puffing  out  his  cheeks  with  importance.  "  And 
though  it  is  true  he  ordered  his  horses  and  went  for  Lon- 
don last  evening — as  I  know  myself,  having  seen  him 
go,  and  seen  him  before  for  the  matter  of  that  at  Hert- 
ford Assizes,  for  he  is  a  Counsellor — it  does  not  follow 
that  the  wench  went  with  him.  Or,  if  she  did,  Mrs. 
D , " 

"  That  she  had  anything  to  do  with  this  money,"  the 
neighbour  who  had  spoken  before  put  in. 

"Precisely,  Mr.  Jenkins,"  the  constable  answered. 
"  You  are  a  man  of  sense.  For  my  part,"  he  continued, 
looking  round  a  little  defiantly,  "  I  am  no  Whig,  and  I 
am  not  for  meddling  with  Court  gentlemen,  and  least 
of  all  lawyers.     And  if  you   will  take  my  advice,   Mr. 

D ,  you  will  be  satisfied  to  lay  this  young  jail-bird  by 

the  heels;  and  if  he  does  not  sjoeak  before  the  rope  is 
round  his  neck,  it  is  not  likely  that  you  will  get  your 
money  other  ways.  But,  lord,"  the  good  man  went  on, 
standing  back  from  me,  to  view  me  the  better,  "he  is 
young  to  be  siTcli  a  villain!  It  is  'broke  and  entered,' 
too,  and  so  he  Avill  swing  for  it."  And  he  took  off  his 
hat  and  wiped  his  bald  head,  while  he  gazed  at  me 
between  pity  and  admiration. 

Mrs.  D ,  who  was  very  far  from  sharing  either  of 

these  feelings,  would  have  had  me  taken  at  once  before  a 
Justice  and  committed.  But  the  constable,  partly  to 
prove  his  importance,  and  partly,  I  believe,  to  give  me  a 


SHREWSBURY  69 

Chance  of  disclosing  where  the  money  lay,  before  it  was 
too  late,  would  have  the  house  and  garden  searched,  and 
all  the  boys  examined ;  under  the  impression  that  I  might 
have  had  one  of  these  for  my  accomplice.  Naturally, 
however,  nothing  came  of  this,  except  the  discovery  that 
I  had  been  out  of  nights  lately;  which  had  scarcely  been 
made  when  who  should  appear  on  the  scene,  in  an  unlucky 
hour  for  me,  but  the  gentleman  who  had  identified  me 
outside  the  gaming  room  at  the  "Eose."  As  he  had 
come  for  the  very  purpose  of  laying  a  complaint  against 
me,  his  story  destroyed  the  last  scrap  of  my  credit,  by 
exhibiting  me  as  a  secret  rake;  and  this  removing  all 
doubt  of  my  guilt,  if  any  were  still  entertained  even  by 
Mrs.  Harris,  it  was  determined  to  convey  me,  dinner  over, 
to  Sir  Baldwin  Winston's,  at  Abbot's  Stanstead,  to  be 
committed;  the  two  Justices  who  resided  in  Ware  being 
at  the  moment  disabled. 

All  this  time,  and  while  my  fate  was  being  decided,  I 
listened  to  one  and  another  in  a  dull  despair,  which  de- 
prived me  of  the  power  to  defend  myself;  and  from  which 

nothing  less  than  Mrs.  D 's  atrocious  proposal  to  flog 

me,  until  I  gave  up  the  money,  could  draw  me,  and  that 
only  for  a  moment.  Conscious  of  my  guilt,  and  seized  in 
the  act  and  on  the  scene  of  my  crime,  1  beheld  only  the 
near  and  certain  prospect  of  punishment;  while  I  had  not 
the  temptation  to  tell  all,  and  inform  against  my  crafty 
accomplice,  to  which  a  knowledge  of  her  destination  must 
have  exposed  me.  Besides — and  I  think  a  great  part  of 
my  apathy  was  due  to  this — I  still  felt  the  stunning  effects 
of  the  blow  which  her  cruel  treachery  had  dealt  me.  I 
saw  her  in  her  true  light;  and  as  I  sat,  weeping  silently, 
and  seeming  to  those  Avho  watched  me,  little  moved,  I 
was  thinking  at  least  as  much  of  the  past  and  my  love, 
and  her  craft,  as  of  the  fate  that  lay  before  me. 

Though  this  was  presently  brought  vividly  before  me, 
and  of  all  persons  by  Mrs.  Harris.     Mrs.  D of  her- 


70  SHREWSBURY 

self  would  have  given  me  neither  bit  nor  sup  in  the  house; 
but  the  constable  insisting  that  the  King's  prisoner  must 
be  fed,  Mrs.  Harris,  tearful  and  shaking,  was  allowed  to 
bring  me  some  broken  victuals.  These  set  before  me,  the 
good  soul,  instead  of  retiring,  pottered  aimlessly  about 
the  room;  and  by  and  by  got  behind  me;  on  which,  or 
rather  a  moment  later,  I  felt  something  cold  and  sharp 
at  tbe  nape  of  my  neck  and  started  up.  Bursting  into 
a  flood  of  tears  she  plumped  down  on  a  seat,  and  I  saw 
that  she  had  a  pair  of  scissors  and  a  scrap  of  my  bair  in 
her  hand. 

"Good  Lord!"  I  said. 

Doubtless  the  tone  in  which  I  spoke  betrayed  me,  for 
the  constable's  man  Avho  was  in  charge  of  me  laughed 
brutally.  "Gad,  if  he  does  not  think  she  did  it  out  of 
love!"  he  cried,  speaking  to  a  friend  who  was  sitting 
with  him.  "  When  all  the  old  dame  wants  is  a  charm 
for  the  rheumatics;  and  she  thinks  the  chance  too  good 
to  be  lost." 

Then  I  remembered  that  the  hair  of  a  hanged  man  is 
in  that  part  held  to  be  sovereign  for  the  rheumatics;  and 
I  sat  down  feeling  cold  and  faint. 


CHAPTER  Vm 

That  saying,  though  a  small  thing,  and  a  foolish  one, 
brought  my  state  home  to  me;  and,  moreover,  filled  me 
with  so  grisly  a  foreboding  of  the  gibbet,  that  hence- 
forth I  gave  my  treacherous  mistress  no  more  thought 
than  she  deserved — which  was  little;  but  I  became  wholly 
taken  up  with  my  own  fate,  and  especially  with  the  recol- 
lection of  a  man,  whom  I  had  once  seen,  pitched  and 
hanging  in  chains,  at  Much  Hadham  Crossroads.     The 


SHREWSBURY  71 

horrible  spectacle  he  had  become,  ten  days  dead,  grew  on 
my  miud,  until  I  grovelled  and  sweated  in  a  green  terror, 
and  that  not  so  much  at  the  prospect  of  death — though 
this  sent  me  hot  and  cold  in  the  same  instant — as  of  the 
harsh  rope  about  my  neck,  and  the  sacking  bands,  and 
the  dreadful  apparatus,  and  the  grinning  loathsome 
thing  I  must  become. 

Near  swooning  at  these  thoughts,  I  sank  huddled  into 
the  chair;  and  was  presently  plucked  up  by  the  constable's 
assistant,  who,  seeing  my  state,  came  forward,  and  though 
he  was  naturally  a  coarse  fellow,  strove  to  hearten  me, 
saying  that  there  was  always  hope  until  the  cart  moved, 
and  that  many  a  man  cast  for  death  was  drinking  the 
King's  health  in  the  Plantations.  With  an  oath  or  two 
and  in  a  loud  voice. 

On  that  a  last  flicker  of  pride  came  to  my  aid,  and  try- 
ing to  meet  his  eye  I  muttered  that  it  was  not  that;  that 
I  was  not  afraid,  and  that  at  worst  I  should  be  burned  in 
the  hand. 

"To  be  sure!"  he  said  nodding,  and  looking  at  me 
curiously.     "  To  be  sure.     It  is  well  to  be  a  scholar!  " 

I  was  athirst,  however,  to  get  some  further  and  better 
assurance  from  him;  and  fixing  my  eyes  on  his  face,  I 
asked  hoarsely,  "You  think  that  it  is  certain?  You 
think  there  is  no  doubt?  " 

"Certain  sure,  my  Toby!"  he  answered.  But  I  saw 
that,  as  he  moved  away,  he  winked  to  his  comrade,  and  I 
heard  the  latter  ask  him  softly,  as  he  took  his  seat  again, 
"  Is  't  so  ?     Will  the  lad  cheat  the  hangman  ?  " 

"Not  he!  "  was  the  reply,  uttered  in  a  whisper — but 
terror  sharpened  my  ears.  "  There  was  so  long  a  list  at 
the  last  Assizes,  and  half  of  them  legit,  that  it  was  given 
out  they  would  override  it  this  time,  and  make  exami^les. 
And  ten  to  one  he  will  swing,  Ben." 

"  But  is  it  the  law  ?  " 

I  did  not  hear  the  answer  for  the  drumming  in  my  ears 


73  SHREWSBURY 

and  the  dreadful  confusion  in  my  brain ;  which  were  such 
that  I  was  not  aware  of  the  constable's  entrance  or  of  any- 
thing that  happened  after  that,  until  I  found  myself 
in  the  road  climbing  clumsily  on  the  back  of  a  pony,  in 
the  middle  of  a  throng  of  staring  curious  faces.  My  feet 
being  secured  under  the  beast's  belly — at  which  some  gave 
a  hand,  while  others  stood  off,  whispering  and  looking 
strangely  at  me — the  constable  mounted  himself,  and 
shouting  to  his  wife  that  he  should  take  me  on  to  Hert- 
ford gaol,  and  should  not  be  back  until  late,  led  me  out 

of  the  crowd,  Mr.  D and  Mr.  Jenkins  bringing  up 

the  rear.  The  last  I  saw  of  the  school  the  boys  were  hang- 
ing out  of  the  windows  to  see  me  go;  and  Mrs.  D 

was  standing  in  the  doorway,  and  unappeased  by  my  mis- 
ery, was  shrilly  denouncing  me — hands  and  tongue,  all 
going — to  a  group  of  her  gossips. 

Our  road  took  us  past  the  Eose  Inn,  and  through  a 
great  part  of  the  town,  but  no  impression  of  either  remains 
with  me,  my  only  recollection  being  of  the  sunshine  that 
lay  over  tlie  country,  and  of  the  haj)piuess  that  all  crea- 
tion, all  living  things,  save  my  doomed  self,  enjoyed. 
The  bitterness  of  the  thought  that  yesterday  I  had  been 
as  these,  free  to  move  and  live  and  breathe,  caused  great 
tears  to  roll  down  my  cheeks;  but  my  companions,  whose 
thoughts  had  already  gone  forward  to  the  Steward's 
Eoom  at  Sir  Winston's,  and  the  entertainment  they  ex- 
pected there,  took  little  notice  of  me;  and  less  after  the 
porter  at  the  lodge  told  them  that  there  were  grand 
doings  at  the  house,  and  a  great  company,  including  a 
lord,  come  unexpectedly  from  London. 

"I  don't  think  ye'll  be  welcome,"  the  porter  added, 
looking  curiously  at  me. 

"Justice's  business,"    the  constable   replied  sturdily. 


"  The  King  must  be  served." 


"Ay,  that  is  what  you  all  say  when  you've  something 
to  gain  by  it,"  the  porter  retorted;  and  went  in. 


THE   CONSTABLE  LED   ME   OUT   OF   THE   CROWD 


SHREWSBURY  75 

All  which  I  heard  idly;  not  supposing  that  it  meant 
to  me  the  difference  between  life  and  death,  fortune  and 
misery;  or  that  in  the  comj)any  come  unexpectedly  from 
London  lurked  my  salvation.  If  I  dwelt  on  the  news  at 
all  it  was  only  as  it  might  affect  me  by  adding  to  the 
shame  I  felt.  But  in  this  I  deceived  myself;  for  when 
the  ordeal  of  waiting  in  the  servants'  hall — where  the 
maids  'pitied  me  and  would  have  fed  me  if  I  could  have 
eaten — was  over,  and  we  were  ushered  into  the  parlour  in 
which  Sir  Winston,  who  had  newly  risen  from  dinner, 
would  see  ns,  we  found  only  one  gentleman  with  him. 

The  two  stood  at  the  farther  end  of  a  long  narrow  room, 
in  the  bay  of  a  large  window,  that,  open  to  the  ground, 
permitted  a  view  of  cool  sward  and  yew  hedges.  That 
they  had  had  companions,  lately  withdrawn,  was  clear; 
and  this,  not  only  from  the  length  of  the  table,  which, 
bestrewn  with  plates  and  glasses  and  half- empty  flagons, 
stretched  up  the  room  from  us  to  them,  but  from  two 
chairs,  thrown  down  in  the  hurry  of  rising,  and  six  or 
seven  others  thrust  back,  haphazard,  against  the  panels. 
In  the  side  of  the  room  were  four  tall  straight  windows 
that  allowed  the  sunshine  to  fall  in  regular  bars  on  the 
table;  and  these,  displaying  here  a  little  pool  of  spilled 
claret,  and  there  a  broken  tobacco  pipe,  the  ash  still 
smouldering,  gave  a  touch  of  grimness  to  the  luxurious 
disorder. 

The  same  incongruity  was  to  be  observed  in  the  appear- 
ance of  the  elder  and  stouter  of  the  two  men;  who  had 
hung  his  periwig  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  showed  a 
bald  head  and  flushed  face  that  agreed  very  ill  with  his 
laced  cravat  and  embroidered  coat.  Standing  with  his 
feet  apart  and  his  arm  outstretched,  he  was  not  immedi- 
ately aware  of  our  entrance;  but  continued  to  address  his 
companion  in  words  that  were  coherent,  yet  betrayed  how 
he  had  been  employed. 

"  Crop-eared  knaves,  my  lord,  half   of   them,  and   I 


76  SHREWSBURY 

one!  "  he  cried,  as  we  came  to  a  halt  a  little  within  the 
door,  to  await  his  pleasure — I  with  shaking  knees  and 
sinking  heart.  "  And  ready  to  become  the  same  again  if 
the  times  call  for  it.  For  why  ?  Because  it  was  only  so 
we  could  keep  or  get,  my  lord.  And  martyrs  have  been 
few  in  my  time,  though  fools  plenty." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  deny  the  last,  Sir  Winston,"  his 
companion  answered,  smiling;  for  Avliom  at  the  moment, 
blind  bat  as  I  was,  I  had  no  eyes,  seeing  in  him  only  a 
noble  youth,  handsomely  dressed  and  periwigged,  and 
two,  or  it  might  be  three  years  older  than  myself;  whereas 
I  hung  on  the  Justice's  nod.  "But  here  is  your  case," 
the  young  man  continued,  turning  to  me,  and  speaking 
in  a  pleasant  voice. 

"  And  a  hard  case  one  of  them  is,"  the  Justice  answered 
jollily,  as  he  turned  to  us,  and  singled  out  the  constable. 
'"  That  is  you,  Dyson!  "  he  continued,  "one  of  those  of 
whom  I  have  been  telling  you,  my  lord.  A  j^salm-singer 
in  the  troubles,  sergeant  in  Lord  Grey's  regiment,  a 
roundhead,  and  ran  away,  with  better  men  than  himself, 
at  Cropredy  Bridge.  To-day  he  damns  a  AVhig,  and  goes 
to  bed  drunk  every  twenty-ninth  of  May." 

"  Having  a  good  example,  your  honour!  "  the  constable 
answered  grinning. 

"  Ay,  to  be  sure.  And  why  don't  you  follow  it  also  ?  " 
Sir  Winston  continued,  turning  to  the  schoolmaster. 
"  But  crop-eared  you  were  and  crop-eared  you  are;  one  of 
Shaftesbury's  brisk  boys,  my  lord !  And  ought  to  be  fined 
for  a  ranter  every  Monday  morning,  if  all  had  their 
deserts!  " 

"  Then  I  am  afraid  that  your  theory  does  not  apply  to 
him,  Sir  Winston,"  the  young  man  said  with  a  smile. 
"  Here  is  one  martyr  already;  and  if  one  martyr,  why  not 
many?  " 

"Martyr?"  the  Justice  answered,  with  half-a-dozen 
oaths.     "He?     No  one  less!     He  goes  to  church  as  you 


SHREWSBURY  77 

and  I  do,  and  does  not  smart  to  the  tune  of  a  penny !  It 
is  true  he  pulls  a  solemn  face  and  abhors  mince-pies  and 
plum-porridge.  But  why?  Because  he  keeps  a  school, 
and  the  righteous,  or  what  are  left  of  them,  who  are  just 
such  hypocrites  as  himself,  resort  unto  his  company  with 

boys  and  guineas !   Eesort  unto  his  company,  eh,  D ?  " 

the  Justice  repeated  gleefully,  addressing  the  schoolmas- 
ter. "  That  is  the  phrase,  isn't  it?  Oh,  I  have  chopped 
Scripture  with  old  Noll  in  my  time.  And  so  it  pays,  do 
you  see,  my  lord  ?  When  it  does  not,  he'll  damn  the 
Whigs  and  turn  Tantivy  or  Abhorrer,  or  something  that 
does.  And  so  it  is  with  all;  they  are  loyal.  Never  were 
Englishmen  more  loyal;  but  to  what  are  they  loyal? 
Themselves,  my  lord  !  " 

"Yet  there  are  Whigs  who  do  not  keep  schools,"  the 
young  lord  said,  after  a  hearty  laugh. 

"Ay,  my  lord,  and  why?"  Sir  Winston  answered,  in 
high  good  humour,  "because  we  are  all  trimmers  to  the 
wind,  but  some  trim  too  late,  and  some  too  soon.  And 
those  are  your  Whigs.  Never  you  turn  Whig,  my  lord, 
whatever  you  do,  or  j^ou  Avill  die  in  a  Dutch  garret  like 
Tony  Shiftsbury  !  And  if  anyone  could  have  made 
Whiggery  pay  nowadays,  clever  Anthony  would  have, 
llere's  his  health,  but  I  doubt  he  is  in  hell,  these  eight 
months." 

And  Sir  Winston,  going  to  the  table,  filled  and  drank 
off  a  bumper  of  claret.  Then  ho  filled  again.  "  The 
Kiug — God  bless  him — is  not  very  well,  I  hear,"  said  he, 
winking  at  the  young  lord.  "  So  I  will  give  you  another 
toast.  His  Highness's  health,  and  confusion  to  all 
who  would  exclude  him  !  And  now  what  is  this  busi- 
ness, Dyson  ?  Who  is  the  lad  ?  What  has  he  been 
doing?'' 

The  constable  began  to  explain;  but  before  he  had 
uttered  many  words,  the  baronet,  whose  last  draught  had 
more  than  a  little  fuddled  him,  cut  him  short.     "  Oh, 


78  SHREWSBURY 

come  to  me  to-morrow  !  "  he  said.  "  Or  stay  !  You  are 
in  the  Commission  for  the  county,  my  lord  ?  " 

"I  am,  but  I  have  not  acted,"  the  young  man 
answered. 

"  Eot  it,  man,  but  you  shall  act  now  !  Burglary,  is  it  ? 
Broke  and  entered,  eh  ?  Then  that  is  a  hanging  matter, 
and  a  young  hound  should  be  blooded.  I  am  off!  My 
lord  will  do  it,  Dyson.     My  lord  will  do  it." 

With  which  the  Justice  lurched  out  of  the  window  so 
quickly,  not  to  say  unsteadily,  that  he  was  gone  before 
his  companion  could  remonstrate.  The  young  lord,  thus 
abandoned,  looked  at  first  at  a  nonplus,  and  seemed  for  a 
while  more  than  half -inclined  to  follow.  But  changing 
his  mind,  and  curious,  I  am  willing  to  believe,  to  hear  the 
case  of  a  prisoner  so  much  out  of  the  common  as  I  must 
have  api^eared  to  him,  he  turned  to  us,  and  adopting  a 
certain  stateliness,  which  came  easily  to  him,  young  as  he 
was,  he  told  the  constable  he  would  hear  him. 

Then  it  was  that,  hanging  for  my  life  on  the  nods  and 
words  of  intelligence  that  from  time  to  time  fell  from 
him,  and  whereby  he  lifted  the  constable  out  of  the  slough 
of  verbiage  in  which  he  floundered,  I  dared  again  to 
hope;  and  noting  with  eyes  sharpened  by  terror  the  cast 
of  his  serious  handsome  features,  and  the  curves  of  his 
mouth,  sensitive  as  a  woman's  yet  wondrously  under  con- 
trol, saw  a  prospect  of  life.  For  a  time  indeed  I  had 
nothing  more  substantial  on  which  to  build  than  such 
signs,  so  damning  seemed  the  tale  that  branded  me  as 
taken  in  the  act  and  on  the  scene  of  my  crimes.  But 
when  the  young  peer,  after  eyeing  me  gravely  and  piti- 
fully, asked  if  they  had  found  the  money  on  me,  and  the 
constable  answered,  "  No,"  and  my  lord  retorted,  "  Then 
where  was  it?"  and  got  no  answer  ;  and  again  when  he 
enquired  as  to  the  lock  on  the  door  and  the  height  of  the 
window,  and  who  had  aided  me  to  enter,  and  learned  that 
a  girl  was  suspected  and  no  one  else — then  I  felt  the 


SHREWSBURY  79 

blood  beat  hotly  iu  my  head,  and  a  mist  come  before  my 
eyes. 

"  Who  is  his  accomplice  ?  Pooh;  there  must  be  one !  " 
he  said. 

"The  girl,  may  it  pleasure  your  lordship^"  the  con- 
stable answered. 

"The  girl?  Then  why  should  she  leave  him  to  be 
taken  ?     How  did  he  enter  ?  " 

"  By  a  ladder,  it  is  supposed,  my  lord." 

"It  is  supposed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

"  But  ladder  or  no  ladder,  why  did  she  leave  him  ?  " 

The  constable  scratched  his  head. 

"  Perhaj)s  they  were  surprised,  please  your  lordship," 
he  ventured  at  last. 

"But  the  boy  was  found  in  the  room  at  seven,  dolt. 
And  the  sun  is  up  before  four.  What  was  he  doing  all 
those  hours?     Surprised,  pooh  !  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  to  that,  your  Avorship,"  the 
man  answered  sturdily;  "but  only  that  the  prisoner  was 
found  in  the  room,  iu  which  he  had  not  ought  to  be,  and 
the  money  was  gone  from  the  room  where  it  had  ought 
to  be  !  " 

"  And  the  bureau  was  broken  open,"  Mr.  D cried 

eagerly.  "  And  what  is  more,  he  has  never  denied  it,  my 
lord!     Never." 

At  that  and  at  sight  of  the  change  that  came  over  my 
judge's  face  the  hope  that  had  risen  in  me  died  sud- 
denly; and  I  saw  again  the  grim  prospect  of  the  prison 
and  the  gibbet ;  and  to  be  led  from  one  to  the  other, 
dumb,  one  of  a  drove,  unregarded.  And,  it  coming  upon 
me  strongly  that  in  a  moment  it  would  be  too  late,  I  found 
my  voice  and  cried  to  him,  "Oh,  my  lord,  save  me  !  "  I 
cried.     "  Help  me  !     For  the  sake  of  God,  help  me  !  " 

Whether  my  words  moved  him  or  he  had  not  yet  given 
up  my  case,  he  looked  at  me  attentively,  and  with  a  shade 


80  SHREWSBURY 

as  of  recollection  on  his  face.  Then  he  asked  quietly 
what  I  was. 

"  Usher  in  a  school,  my  lord,"  someone  answered. 

"Poor  devil!"  he  exclaimed.  And  then,  to  the 
others,  "Here,  you  !  Withdraw  a  little  to  the  passage, 
if  you  please.     I  would  speak  with  him  alone." 

The  constable  opened  his  mouth  to  demur;  but  the 
young  gentleman  would  not  suffer  it;  saying  with  a  fine 
air  that  there  was  no  resisting,  "  Pooh,  man,  I  am  Lord 
Shrewsbury.  I  will  be  responsible  for  him."  And  with 
that  he  got  them  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  IX 

I  KNOW  now  that  there  never  was  a  man  in  whom  the 
natural  propensity  to  side  with  the  weaker  party  was  by 
custom  and  exercise  more  highly  developed  than  in  my  late 
lord,  in  whose  presence  I  then  stood;  who,  indeed,  carried 
that  virtue  to  such  an  extent  that  if  any  fault  could  be 
found  with  his  public  carriage — which  I  am  very  far  from 
admitting,  but  only  that  such  a  colour  might  be  given  to 
some  parts  of  it  by  his  enemies — the  flaw  was  attributable 
to  this  excess  of  generosity.  Yet  he  has  since  told  me 
that  on  this  occasion  of  our  first  meeting,  it  was  neither 
my  youth  nor  my  misery — in  the  main  at  any  rate — that 
induced  him  to  take  so  extraordinary  a  step  as  that  of 
seeing  me  alone ;  but  a  strange  and  puzzling  reminiscence, 
which  my  features  aroused  in  him,  and  whereto  his  first 
words,  when  we  were  left  together,  bore  witness.  "  Where, 
my  lad,"  said  he,  staring  at  me,  "have  I  seen  you 
before?" 

As  well  as  I  could,  for  the  dread  of  him  in  which  I 
stood,  I  essayed  to  clear  my  brain  and  think;  and  in  me 


SHREWSBURY  81 

also,  as  I  looked  at  him,  the  attempt  awoke  a  recollection, 
as  if  I  had  somewhere  met  him.  But  I  could  conceive 
one  place  only  where  it  was  possible  I  might  have  seen  a 
man  of  his  rank;  and  so  stammered  that  perhaps  at  the 
Kose  Inn,  at  Ware,  in  the  gaming-room  I  might  have  met 
him. 

His  lip  curled,  "No,"  he  said  coldly,  "  I  have  honoured 
the  Groom-Porter  at  Whitehall  once  and  again  by  leaving 
my  guineas  with  him.  But  at  the  Kose  Inn,  at  Ware — 
never!  And  heavens,  Inan,"  he  continued  in  a  tone  of 
contemptuous  wonder,  "what  brought  such  as  you  in 
that  place?" 

In  shame,  and  aware,  now  that  it  was  too  late,  that  I 
had  said  the  worst  thing  in  the  world  to  commend  myself 
to  him,  I  stammered  that  I  had  gone  thither — that  I  had 
gone  thither  with  a  friend. 

"  A  woman  ?  "  he  said  quickly. 

I  allowed  that  it  was  so. 

"The  same  that  led  you  into  this?"  he  continued 
sharply. 

But  to  that  I  made  no  answer:  whereon,  with  kindly 
sternness  he  bade  me  remember  Avhere  I  stood,  and  that 
in  a  few  minutes  it  would  be  too  late  to  speak. 

"  You  can  trust  me,  I  suppose  ?  "  he  continued  with  a 
fine  scorn,  "that  I  shall  not  give  evidence  against  you. 
By  being  candid,  therefore,  you  may  make  things  better, 
but  can  hardly  make  them  worse." 

Whereon  I  have  every  reason  to  be  thankful,  nay,  it 
has  been  matter  for  a  life's  rejoicing  that  I  was  not  proof 
against  his  kindness;  but  without  more  ado,  sobbing  over 
some  parts  of  my  tale,  and  whispering  others,  I  told  him 
my  whole  story  from  the  first  meeting  with  my  temptress 
— so  I  may  truly  call  her — to  the  final  moment  when,  the 
money  gone,  and  the  ladder  removed,  I  was  rudely  awak- 
ened, to  find  myself  a  prisoner.  I  told  it,  I  have  reason 
to  believe,  with  feeling,  and  in  words  that  carried  con- 
6 


83  SHREWSBURY 

viction;  the  more  as,  though  skilled  in  literary  com- 
position, and  in  writing  secundum  artem,  I  have  little 
imagination.  At  any  rate,  when  I  had  done,  and  quav- 
ered oli  reluctantly  into  a  half  coherent  and  wholly  pite- 
ous appeal  for  mercy,  I  found  my  young  judge  gazing 
at  me  with  a  heat  of  indignation  in  cheek  and  eye,  that 
strangely  altered  him. 

"  Good  G !  "  he  cried,  "  what  a  Jezebel  !  "     And 

in  words  which  I  will  not  here  repeat,  he  said  what  he 
thought  of  her. 

True  as  the  words  were  (and  I  knew  that,  after  what  I 
had  told  him,  nothing  else  was  true  of  her),  they  forced 
a  groan  from  me. 

"Poor  devil,"  he  said  at  that.  And  then  again, 
"  Poor  devil,  it  is  a  shame  !  It  is  a  black  shame,  my 
lad,"  he  continued  warmly,  "and  I  would  like  to  see 
Madam  at  the  cart-tail;  and  that  is  where  I  shall  see  her 
before  all  is  done  !  I  never  heard  of  such  a  vixen  !  Bat 
for  you,"  and  on  the  word  he  paused  and  looked  at  me, 
"you  did  it,  my  friend,  and  I  do  not  see  your  way  out 
of  it." 

"  Then  must  I  hang?  "  I  cried  desperately. 

He  did  not  answer, 

"  My  lord  !  My  lord  !  "  I  urged,  for  I  began  to  see 
whither  he  was  tending,  and  I  could  have  shrieked  in 
terror,  "  you  can  do  anything." 

"I?"  he  said. 

"  You  !     If  you  would  speak  to  the  judge,  my  lord." 

He  laughed,  without  mirth.  "He  would  whip  you 
instead  of  hanging  you,"  he  said  contemptuously. 

"To  the  King,  then." 

"You  would  thank  me  for  nothing,"  he  answered; 
and  then  with  a  kind  of  contemptuous  suavity,  "  My 
friend,  in  your  Ware  Academy — where  nevertheless  you 
seem  to  have  had  your  diversions — you  do  not  know  these 
things.     But  you  may  take  it  from  me,  that  I  am  more 


SHRE  WSB  UR  Y  83 

than  suspected  of  belonging  to  the  party  whose  existence 
Sir  Baldwin  denies — I  mean  to  the  Whigs;  and  the  sus- 
picion alone  is  enough  to  damn  any  request  of  mine." 

On  that,  after  staring  at  him  a  moment,  I  did  a  thing 
that  surprised  him;  and  had  he  known  me  better  a  thing 
that  would  have  surprised  him  more.  For  the  courage  to 
do  it,  and  to  show  myself  in  colours  unlike  my  own,  I  had 
to  thank  neither  despair  nor  fear,  though  both  were  pres- 
ent; but  a  kind  of  rage  that  seized  me,  on  hearing  him 
speak  in  a  tone  above  me,  and  as  if,  having  heard  my 
story,  he  was  satisfied  with  the  curiosity  of  it,  and  would 
dismiss  the  subject,  and  I  might  go  to  the  gallows.  I 
know  now  that  in  so  speaking  he  had  not  that  intent,  but 
that  brought  up  short  by  the  certainty  of  my  guilt,  and 
the  impasse  as  to  helping  me,  in  which  he  stood,  he  chose 
that  mode  of  repressing  the  emotion  he  felt.  I  did  not 
understand  this  however:  and  with  a  bitterness  born  of 
the  misconception,  and  in  a  voice  that  sounded  harsh, 
and  anyone's  rather  than  mine,  I  burst  into  a  furious 
torrent  of  reproaches,  asking  him  if  it  was  only  for  this 
he  had  seen  me  alone,  and  to  make  a  tale.  ''  To  make  a 
tale,"  I  cried,  "  and  a  jest  ?  One  that  with  the  same  face 
with  which  you  send  me  out  to  be  strangled  and  to  rot, 
and  with  the  same  smile,  you'll  tell,  my  lord,  after  supper 
to  Sir  Baldwin  and  your  like.  Oh,  for  shame,  my  lord, 
for  shame!  "  I  cried,  passionately,  and  losing  all  fear  of 
him  in  my  indignation.  "  As  you  may  some  day  be  in 
trouble  yourself — for  great  heads  fall  as  well  as  low  ones 
in  these  days,  and  as  little  pitied — if  you  have  bowels  of 
compassion,  my  lord,  and  a  mother  to  love  you " 

He  turned  on  me  so  swiftly  at  that  word,  that  my 
anger  quailed  before  his.     "  Silence!  "  he  cried,  fiercely. 

"  How  dare  you,  such  as  you,  mention .     But  there, 

fellow — be  silent  !  " 

I  caught  the  ring  of  pain  as  well  as  anger  in  his  tone, 
and  obeyed  him ;  though  I  could  not  discern  what  I  had 


84  SHREWSBURY 

said  to  touch  him  so  sorely.  He  on  his  side  glowered  at 
me  a  moment;  and  so  we  stood,  while  hope  died  within 
me,  and  I  grew  afraid  of  him  again,  and  a  shadow  fell  on 
the  room  as  it  had  already  fallen  on  his  face.  I  waited 
for  nothing  now  but  the  word  that  should  send  me  from 
his  presence,  and  thought  nothing  so  certain  as  that  I  had 
flung  away  what  slender  chance  remained  to  me.  It  was 
with  a  start  that  when  he  broke  the  silence  I  was  aware 
of  a  new  sound  in  his  voice. 

"  Listen,  my  lad,"  he  said  in  a  constrained  tone — and 
he  did  not  look  at  me.  "  You  are  right  in  one  thing. 
If  I  meant  to  do  nothing  for  you,  I  had  no  right  to  your 
confidence.  I  do  not  know  what  it  was  in  your  face 
induced  me  to  see  you.  I  wish  I  had  not.  But  since  I 
have  I  must  do  what  I  can  to  save  you:  and  there  is  only 
one  way.  Mind  you,"  he  continued  in  a  sudden  burst  of 
anger,  "I  do  not  like  it  !  And  I  do  it  out  of  regard  for 
myself,  not  for  you,  my  hid  !     Mind  you  that  !  " 

"  Oh,  my  lord  !  "  I  cried,  ready  to  fall  down  and  wor- 
ship him. 

"Be  silent,"  he  answered,  coldly,  "and  when  my 
back  is  turned  go  through  that  window.  Do  you  under- 
stand ?  It  is  all  I  can  do  for  you.  The  alley  on  the  left 
leads  to  the  stables.  Pass  through  them  boldly  ;  if  you 
are  not  stojiped  you  will  in  a  minute  be  on  the  high  road. 
The  turn,  to  the  left  at  the  cross-roads,  leads  to  Totten- 
ham and  London.  That  on  the  right  will  take  you  to 
Little  Parndon  and  Epping.  That  is  all  I  have  to  say  ; 
while  I  look  for  a  piece  of  paper  to  sign  yoiir  commit- 
ment, you  would  do  well  to  go.  Only  remember,  my 
man,  if  you  are  retaken — do  not  look  to  me." 

He  suited  the  action  to  the  words  by  turning  his  back 
on  me,  and  beginning  to  search  in  a  bureau  that  stood 
beside  him.  But  so  sudden  and  so  unexpected  was  the 
proposal  he  had  made,  that  though  he  had  said  distinctly 
"Go!"     I  doubt  if,   aimrt  from  the   open   window,   I 


SHREWSBURY 


85 


should  have  understood  his  purpose.     As  it  was  I  came  to 
it  slowly — so  slowly  that  he  lost  patience,  and  with  his 
head  still  huried  among  the  i^igeon-holes,  swore  at  me. 
"Are  you  going?"  he  said.     "Or  do  you  think  that 


WHEN    MY    HACK    IS    TURNED    GO    THROUGH    THAT    WINDOW 

it  is  nothing  I  am  doing  for  you  ?  Do  you  think  it  is 
nothing  that  I  am  going  to  tell  a  lie  for  such  as  you? 
Either  go  or  hang,  my  lad  ! ' ' 

I  heard  no  more.     A  moment  earlier  nothing  had  been 


86  SHREWSBURY 

farther  from  my  thonglits  than  to  attempt  an  escape,  but 
the  impulse  of  his  will  steadied  my  wavering  resolution, 
and  with  set  teeth  and  a  beating  heart,  I  stepped  through 
the  window.  Outside  I  turned  to  the  left  along  a  shady 
green  alley  fenced  by  hedges  of  yew,  and  espying  the 
stable-yard  before  me,  walked  boldly  across  it.  By  good 
luck  the  grooms  and  helpers  were  at  supper  and  I  saw  only 
one  man  standing  at  a  door.  He  stared  at  me,  mouth- 
ing a  straw,  but  said  nothing,  and  in  a  twinkling  I  had 
passed  him,  left  the  curtilage  behind  me,  and  had  the 
park  fence  and  gate  in  sight. 

Until  I  reached  this,  not  knowing  whose  eyes  were  on 
me,  I  had  the  j^resence  of  mind  to  walk;  though  cold 
shivers  ran  down  my  back,  and  my  hair  crept,  and  every 
second  I  fancied — for  I  was  too  nervous  to  look  back — 
that  I  felt  Dyson's  hand  on  my  collar.  Arriving  safely 
at  the  gate,  however,  and  the  road  stretching  before  me 
with  no  one  in  sight,  I  took  to  my  heels,  and  ran  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  along  it ;  then  leaping  the  fence  that  bounded 
it  on  the  right,  I  started  recklessly  across  country,  my 
aim  being  to  strike  the  Little  Parndon  highway,  to  which 
my  lord  had  referred,  at  a  point  beyond  the  cross-roads, 
and  so  to  avoid  passing  the  latter, 

I  am  aware  that  this  mode  of  escape,  this  walking 
through  a  window  and  running  off  unmolested,  sounds 
bald  and  commonplace;  and  that  if  I  could  import  into 
my  story  sume  touch  of  romance  or  womanish  disguise, 
such  as — to  compare  great  things  with  small — marked 
my  Lord  Nithsd ale's  escape  from  the  Tower  three  years 
ago,  I  should  cut  a  better  figure.  Whereas  in  the  flight 
across  the  fields  on  a  quiet  afternoon,  with  the  sun  casting 
long  shadows  on  the  meadows,  and  for  my  most  instant 
alarms,  the  sudden  whirring  up  before  me  of  partridge  ot 
plover,  few  will  find  anything  heroic.  But  let  them  place 
themselves  for  a  moment  in  my  skin,  and  remember  that 
as  I  sweated  and  panted  and  stumbled  and  rose  again,  as 


SHREWSBURY  87 

I  splashed  in  reckless  haste  through  sloughs  and  ditches, 
and  tore  my  way  through  great  bhickthorns,  I  had  death 
always  at  my  heels  !  Let  them  remember  that  in  the  long 
shadows  that  crossed  my  patli  I  saw  the  gallows,  and  again 
the  gallows,  and  once  more  the  gallows;  and  fled  more 
quickly;  and  that  it  needed  but  the  distant  bark  of  a  dog, 
or  the  shout  of  a  boy  scaring  birds,  to  j^ersuade  me  that 
the  hue  and  cry  was  coming,  and  to  fill  me  with  the  last 
extremity  of  fear. 

I  believe  that  the  adventurer,  and  the  knight  of  the 
road,  when  it  falls  to  their  lot  to  be  so  hunted — as  must 
often  hajjpen,  though  more  commonly  such  an  one  is 
taken  securus  et  ehrius  in  the  arms  of  his  mistress — find 
some  mitigation  of  their  pains  in  the  anticipation  of  con- 
flict, and  in  the  stern  joy  which  the  resolve  to  sell  life 
dearly  imparts  to  the  man  of  action.  But  I  was  unarmed, 
and  worn  out  with  my  exertions;  no  soldier,  and  with  no 
heart  to  fight.  My  flight  therefore  across  the  quiet  fields 
was  pure  terror,  the  torture  of  unmitigated  fear.  Fear 
spurred  me  and  whipped  me  ;  and  yet,  had  I  known  it,  I 
might  have  spared  my  terror.  For  darkness  found  me, 
weak  and  exhausted,  but  still  free,  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Epping  in  Essex,  where  I  passed  the  night  in  the 
Forest;  and  before  noon  next  day,  believing  that  they 
would  watch  for  me  on  the  Tottenham  Road,  I  had  found 
courage  to  slink  in  to  London  by  way  of  Chingford,  and 
in  the  heart  of  that  great  city,  whose  magnitude  exceeded 
all  my  expectations,  had  safely  and  eifectually  lost  myself. 


CHAPTER  X 

At  this  point,  it  becomes  me  to  pause.     I  set  out,  the 
reader  will  remember,  to  furnish  such  a  narrative  of  the 


88  SHREWSBURY 

events  attending  my  first  meeting  with  my  honoured  pa- 
tron, as  taken  with  a  brief  account  of  myself  might  enable 
all  to  pursue  with  insight  as  well  as  advantage  the  details 
of  my  later  connection  with  him.  And  this  being  done, 
and  bearing  in  mind  that  Sir  John  Fenwick  did  not  suffer 
for  his  conspiracy  until  1696,  and  that  consequently  a 
period  of  thirteen  years  divided  the  former  events,  which 
I  have  related,  from  those  which  follow — and  which  have 
to  do,  as  I  intimated  at  the  outset,  with  my  lord's  alleged 
cognisance  of  that  conspiracy — some  may,  and  with  im- 
patience, look  to  me  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  gist  of 
the  matter.  Which  I  propose  to  do  ;  but  first  to  crave 
the  reader's  indulgence,  while  in  a  very  hasty  and  per- 
functory manner  I  trace  my  humble  fortunes  in  the  inter- 
val; whereby  time  will  in  the  end  be  saved. 

That  arriving  in  London,  as  I  have  related,  a  fugitive, 
penniless  and  homeless,  in  fear  of  the  law,  I  contrived  to 
keep  out  of  the  beadle's  hands,  and  was  neither  whipped 
for  a  vagrant  at  Bridewell,  nor  starved  outright  in  the 
streets,  I  attribute  to  most  singular  good  fortune  ;  which 
not  only  rescued  me  {siatim)  from  a  great  and  instant 
danger  that  all  but  engulfed  me,  but  within  a  few  hours 
found  for  me  honest  and  constant  employment,  and  that 
of  an  uncommon  kind. 

It  so  happened  that,  perplexed  by  the  clamour  of  the 
great  city,  wherein  all  faces  were  new  to  me  and  ways 
alike,  I  came  to  a  stand  about  noon  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Newgate  Market;  where,  confident  that  in  the  immense 
and  never-ceasing  tide  of  life  that  ebbs  and  flows  in  that 
quarter,  I  was  safe  from  recognition,  I  ventured  to  sell  an 
undergarment  in  a  small  shoj)  in  an  alley,  and  buying  a 
loaf  with  the  price,  satisfied  my  hunger.  But  the  return 
of  strength  was  accompanied  by  no  return  of  hope;  rather, 
my  prime  necessity  supplied,  I  felt  the  forlornness  of  my 
position  more  acutely.  In  which  condition,  having  no 
resource  but  to  wander  aimlessly  from  one  street  to  another 


SHREWSBURY  89 

while  the  daylight  lasted — and  after  that  no  prospect  at 
all  except  to  pass  the  niglifc  in  the  same  manner — I  came 
presently  into  Little  Britain,  and  stopped,  as  luck  would 
have  it,  before  one  of  the  bookshops  that  crowd  that  part. 
A  number  of  persons  were  poring  over  the  books,  and  I 
joined  them;  but  I  had  not  stood  a  moment,  idly  scanning 
the  backs  of  tlie  volumes,  before  one  of  my  neighbours 
touched  my  elbow,  and  when  I  turned  and  met  his  eyes, 
nodded  to  me.  "  A  scholar  ?  "  he  said,  smiling  pleasantly 
through  a  pair  of  glasses.  "Ah,  how  ill  does  the  muse 
requite  her  worshippers.    From  the  country,  my  friend  ?  " 

I  answered  that  I  was;  and  seeing  him  to  be  a  man  well 
on  in  years,  clad  in  good  broadcloth,  and  of  a  sober,  sub- 
stantial asjDcct,  I  saluted  him  abjectly. 

"To  be  sure,"  he  said,  again  nodding  cheerfully. 
"  And  a  stranger  to  the  town  I  expect  ?  " 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"And  a  reader?     A  reader?     A\\,  how  ill   does   the 

muse But  you  can  read?  "  he  ejaculated,  breaking 

off  somewhat  suddenly. 

I  said  I  could,  and  to  convince  him  read  off  the  names 
of  several  of  the  volumes  before  me.  I  remembered  after- 
wards that  instead  of  looking  at  them  to  see  if  I  read 
aright,  he  kept  his  eyes  on  my  face. 

"  Good  !  "  he  said,  stopping  me  when  I  had  deciphered 
half-a-dozen.     "  You  do  your  schoolmaster  credit,  my  lad. 

Such  a  man  should  not  want,  and  yet  you  look frankly, 

my  friend,  are  you  in  need  of  employment  ?  " 

He  asked  the  question  with  so  much  benevolence,  and 
looked  at  me  with  so  good-natured  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes, 
that  my  tears  nearly  overflowed,  and  I  had  much  ado  to 
answer  him.  "Yes,"  I  said.  "And  without  friends, 
sir." 

"  Indeed,  indeed,"  quoth  ho.  "  Well,  I  must  do  what 
I  can.  And  first,  you  may  do  me  a  service,  which  in  any 
case  shall  not  go  unrequited.     Come  this  way." 


90  SHREWSBURY 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer  he  led  me  into  the  mouth 
of  a  court  hard  by,  where  we  were  less  open  to  observa- 
tion ;  there,  pointing  to  a  shop  at  a  little  distance  from 
that  at  which  he  had  found  me,  he  explained  that  he 
wished  to  purchase  a  copy  of  Seidell's  Baronage  that  stood 
at  the  front  of  the  stall,  but  that  the  tradesman  knew 
him  and  would  overcharge  him.  "  So  do  you  go  and  buy 
it  for  me,  my  friend,"  he  continued,  chuckling  over  his 
innocent  subterfuge,  with  a  simplicity  that  took  with  me 
immensely.  ''  It  should  be  half-a-guinea.  There  is  a 
guinea" — and  he  lugged  one  out.  "  Buy  the  book  and 
bring  the  change  to  me,  and  it  shall  be  something  in 

your  pocket.     Alas,  that  the  muse  should  so  ill But 

there,  go,  go,  my  lad,"  he  continued,  "and  remember 
Seidell's  Baronage,  half-a-guiuea.  And  not  a  penny 
more  !  " 

Delighted  with  the  luck  which  had  found  me  such  a 
patron,  and  anxious  to  acquit  myself  to  the  best  advan- 
tage I  hurried  to  do  his  bidding;  first  making  sure  that  I 
kuew  where  to  find  him.  The  shop  he  had  pointed  out, 
which  was  surmounted  by  the  sign  of  a  gun,  and  appeared 
to  enjoy  no  small  share  of  public  favour,  was  full  of  per- 
sons reading  and  talking;  but  almost  the  first  book  on 
which  my  eyes  alighted  was  Seidell's  Baronage,  and  the 
tradesman  when  I  applied  to  him  made  no  difficulty  about 
the  price,  saying  at  once  that  it  was  half-a-guinea.  I 
handed  him  my  money,  and  without  breaking  oif  his  talk 
with  a  customer,  he  was  counting  the  change,  when  some- 
thing in  my  aspect  struck  him,  and  he  looked  at  the 
guinea.  On  which  he  muttered  an  oath  and  thrust  it 
back  into  my  hand. 

"  It  will  not  do,"  he  said  angrily.     "  Begone  !  " 

I  was  quite  taken  aback:  the  more  as  several  persons 
looked  up  from  their  books,  and  his  immediate  companion, 
a  meagre  dry-looking  man  in  a  snuff-coloured  suit,  fell 
to  staring  at  me.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  stammered. 


SHREWSBURY  91 

"You  know  very  well,"  the  tradesman  answered  me 
roughly.  "And  had  better  be  gone  !  And  more,  I  tell 
you,  if  you  want  a  hemp  collar,  my  man,  you  are  in  the 
way  to  get  one  !  " 

"  Clipped  ?  "  quoth  the  dry-looking  man. 

"  New  clipped  and  bright  at  the  edges!  "  the  bookseller 
answered.  "Now  go,  my  man,  and  be  thankful  I  don't 
send  for  a  constable." 

At  that  I  shrank  away,  two  or  thi-ee  of  the  customers 
coming  to  the  door  to  see  me  out,  and  watching  which 
way  I  turned.  This,  I  suppose — though  I  was  then,  and 
for  a  little  time  longer  in  doubt  about  him — was  the  rea- 
son why  I  could  see  nothing  of  my  charitable  friend,  when 
I  returned  to  the  place  where  I  had  left  him.  I  looked 
this  way  and  that,  but  he  was  gone  ;  and  though,  not 
knowing  what  else  to  do,  and  having  still  the  guinea  in 
my  possession,  I  lingered  about  the  mouth  of  the  court 
for  an  hour  or  more,  looking  for  him,  he  did  not  return. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  the  meagre  dry  man  whom  I 
had  seen  in  the  shop  passed  with  a  book  under  his  arm; 
and  seeing  me,  after  a  moment's  hesitation  stood  and 
spoke  to  me.  "  Well,  my  friend  ?  "  said  he,  looking  hard 
at  me.     "  Are  you  waiting  for  the  halter  ?  " 

I  told  him  civilly,  no  ;  but  that  the  gentleman  who  had 
given  me  the  guinea  to  change  had  bidden  me  return  to 
him  there. 

"  And  he  is  not  here  ?  "  he  said  with  a  sneer. 

"No,"  I  said. 

He  stared  at  me,  wondering  at  the  simplicity  of  my 
answer;  and  then,  "Well,  you  are  either  the  biggest 
fool  or  the  biggest  knave  within  the  bills!  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Are  you  straight  from  Gotham  '?  " 

"  No,"  I  told  him.  "  From  the  north."  And  that  I 
wanted  employment. 

"You  are  like  to  get  it — at  the  Plantations!"  he 
answered  savagely,  taking  snuff.     I  remarked  that  neither 


92  SHREWSBURY 

his  hands  nor  his  liuen  were  of  the  cleanest,  and  that  the 
former  were  stained  with  ink.  "  What  are  you  ?  "  he  con- 
tinued, presently,  in  the  same  snappish,  churlish  tone. 

I  told  him  a  schoolmaster. 

'"'' Exempli  gratid,''''  he  answered  quickly,  and  turning 
to  the  nearest  stall,  he  indicated  the  title-page  of  a  book. 
"Read  me  that,  Master  Schoolmaster." 

I  did  so.  He  grunted;  and  then,  "You  write?  Show 
me  your  hand." 

I  said  I  had  no  paper  or  ink  there,  but  that  if  he  would 
take  me 

"Pooh,  man,  are  you  a  fool?"  he  cried,  impatiently. 
"  Show  me  your  right  hand,  middle  finger,  and  I  will 
fiud  you  scribit  or  non  scribit.  So  !  And  you  want 
work?" 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"  Hard  work  and  little  pay  ?  " 

I  said  I  wanted  to  make  my  living. 

"Ay,  and  maybe  the  first  time  you  come  to  me,  you 
will  cut  my  throat,  and  rob  my  desk,"  he  answered 
gruffly.  "  Hm  !  That  touches  you  home,  does  it? 
However,  ask  for  me  to-morrow,  at  seven  in  the  forenoon 
— Mr.  Timothy  Brome,  at  the  sign  of  the  Black  Boy  in 
Fleet  Street." 

Now  I  was  overjoyed,  indeed.  With  such  a  prospect 
of  employment,  it  seemed  to  me  a  small  thing  that  I  must 
pass  the  night  in  the  streets;  but  even  that  I  escaped. 
For  when  he  was  about  to  part  from  me,  he  asked  me 
what  money  I  had.  None,  I  told  him,  "except  the 
clipped  guinea." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  expect  me  to  give  you  a  shilling 
earnest  ?  "  he  answered,  irascibly.  "  But  no,  no,  Timothy 
Brome  is  no  fool.  See  here,"  he  continued,  slapping  his 
pocket  and  looking  shrewdly  at  me,  "that  guinea  is  not 
worth  a  groat  to  you;  except  to  hang  you." 

"No,"  I  said,  ruefully. 


SHREWSBURY  93 

"Well,  I  will  give  you  five  shillings  for  it,  as  gold, 
mind  you;  as  gold,  and  not  to  pass.     Are  you  content?  " 

"  It  is  not  mine,"  I  said  doubtfully. 

"  Take  it  or  leave  it!  "  he  said,  screwing  up  his  eyes, 
and  so  plainly  pleased  with  the  bargain  he  was  driving 
that  I  had  no  inkling  of  the  kind  heart  that  underlay 
that  crabbed  manner.     "  Take  it  or  leave  it,  my  man." 

Thus  pressed,  and  my  mind  retaining  no  real  doubt  of 
the  knavery  of  the  man  who  had  entrusted  the  guinea  to 
me,  I  handed  it  to  my  new  friend,  and  received  in  return  a 
crown.  And  this  being  my  last  disposition  of  money  not 
my  own,  I  think  it  a  fit  season  to  record  that  from  that 
day  to  this  I  have  been  enabled  by  God's  help  and  man's 
kindness  to  keep  the  eighth  commandment;  and  earning 
honestly  what  I  have  s^Dcnt  have  been  poor,  but  never  a 
beggar. 

In  gratitude  for  which,  and  both  those  good  men 
being  now  dead,  I  here  conjoin  the  names  of  Mr.  Timothy 
Brome,  of  Fleet  Street,  newsmonger  and  author,  whose 
sharp  tongue  and  morose  manners  cloaked  a  hundred 
benefactions;  and  of  Charles,  Duke  of  Shrewsbury,  my 
honoured  patron,  who  never  gave  but  his  smile  doubled 
the  gift  which  his  humanity  dictated. 

The  reader  will  believe  that  punctually  on  the  morrow 
I  went  with  joy  and  thankfulness  to  my  new  master, 
whom  I  found  up  three  pairs  of  stairs  in  a  room  barely 
furnished,  but  heajied  in  every  part  with  piles  of  manu- 
scripts and  dogs-eared  books,  and  all  so  covered  with  dust 
tliat  type  and  script  were  alike  illegible.  He  wore  a  dingy 
morning-gown  and  had  laid  aside  his  wig;  but  the  air  of 
importance  with  which  he  nodded  to  me  and  a  sort  of  dig- 
nity that  clothed  him  as  he  walked  to  and  fro  on  the  ink- 
stained  floor  mightily  impressed  me,  and  drove  me  to 
wonder  what  sort  of  trade  was  carried  on  here.  He  con- 
tinued, for  some  minutes  after  I  entered,  to  declaim  one 
fine  sentence  after  another,  rolling  the  long  words  over 


94 


SHREWSBURY 


his  tongue  with  a  great  appearance  of  enjoyment :  a  pro- 
cess which  he  only  interrupted  to  point  me  to  a  stool  and 
desk,  and  cry  with  averted  eyes — lest  he  should  cut  the 
thread  of  his  thoughts—"  Write  !  " 


^nf 


•'  HE   WORE   A    DINGY    MORNING-GOWN    AND    HAD    LAID 
ASIDE    HIS    WIG  " 

On  my  hesitating,  "  Write  !  "  he  repeated,  in  the  tone 
of  one  commanding  a  thousand  troopers.  And  then  he 
spoke  thus — and  as  he  spoke  I  wrote  :-- 

"  This  day  His  Gracious  Majesty,  whose  health  appears 


SHREWSBURY  95 

to  be  completely  restored,  went,  accompanied  by  the 
French  Ambassador  and  a  brilliant  company,  to  take  the 
air  in  the  Mall.  DesiJatches  from  Holland  say  that 
the  Duke  of  Monmouth  has  arrived  at  the  Hague  and  has 
been  well  received.  Letters  from  the  West  say  that  the 
city  of  Bristol  having  a  well-founded  confidence  in  the 
Eoyal  Clemency  has  hastened  to  lay  its  Charter  at  His 
Majesty's  feet.  The  30th  of  the  month  began  the  Sessions 
at  the  Old  Bailey,  and  held  the  first  and  second  of  this  ; 
where  seventeen  persons  received  sentence  of  death,  nine 
to  be  burned  in  the  hand,  seven  to  be  transported,  and 
eleven  ordered  to  be  whipped.  Yesterday,  or  this  day, 
a  commission  was  sealed  appointing  the  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Jeffreys " 


CHAPTER  XI 

In  a  word,  my  master  was  a  writer  of  Newsletters,  and  in 
that  capacity  possessed  of  so  excellent  a  style  and  so  great 
a  connection  in  the  Western  Counties  that,  as  he  was 
wont  to  boast,  there  was  hardly  a  squire  or  rector  from 
Bristol  to  Dawlish  that  did  not  owe  what  he  knew  of  His 
Majesty's  gout,  or  Mr.  Dryden's  last  play,  to  his  weekly 
epistles.  The  Popish  Plot  which  had  cost  the  lives  of 
Lord  Stafford  and  so  many  of  his  persuasion,  no  less  than 
the  Rye  House  Plot,  which  by  placing  the  Whigs  at  the 
mercy  of  the  Government  had  at  once  afforded  those  their 
revenge,  and  illustrated  the  ups  and  downs  of  court  life, 
had  given  so  sharp  a  stimulus  to  the  appetite  for  news, 
that  of  late  he  had  found  himself  unable  to  cope  with  it. 
In  this  unsettled  condition,  and  meditating  changes  which 
should  belittle  Sir  Roger  and  The  London  Mercury,  and 
oust  print  from  the  field,  he  fell  in  with  me;  and  where 


96  SHREWSBURY 

another  man  would  have  selected  a  bachelor  whose  cassock 
and  scarf  miglit  commend  him  at  Wills'  or  Childs',  his 
eccentric  kindness  snatched  mo  from  the  gutter,  and  set 
me  on  a  tall  stool,  there  to  write  all  day  for  the  delectation 
of  country  houses  and  mayors'  parlours. 

I  remember  that  at  first  it  seemed  to  me  so  easy  a  trick 
(this  noting  the  news  of  the  day  in  j)lain  round  hand) 
that  I  wondered  they  paid  him  to  do  it,  more  than  an- 
other. But  besides  that  I  then  had  knowledge  of  one 
side  of  the  business  only,  I  mean  the  framing  the  news, 
but  none  of  the  manner  in  which  it  was  collected  at  Gar- 
raway's  and  the  Cockpit,  the  Sessions  House,  the  Mall, 
and  the  Gallery  at  Whitehall.  I  presently  learned  that 
even  of  the  share  that  fell  to  my  lot  I  knew  only  as  much 
as  a  dog  that  turns  the  spit  knows  of  the  roasting  of 
meat.  For  when  my  employer,  finding  me  docile  and 
industrious — as  I  know  I  was,  being  thankful  for  such  a 
haven,  and  crushed  in  s|)irit  not  only  by  the  dangers 
through  which  I  had  passed,  but  also  by  my  mistress's 
treachery — when  I  say,  he  left  me  one  day  to  my  devices, 
merely  skimming  through  a  copy  and  leaving  me  to  mul- 
tiply it,  with,  for  sole  guide,  the  list  of  j^laces  to  which 
the  letters  were  to  go,  as  Bridgewater,  Whig;  Bath, 
Tory;  Bridport,  Tory;  Taunton,  Whig;  Frome,  Whig; 
Lyme,  Whig,  and  so  on,  I  came  very  far  short  of  success. 
True,  when  he  returned  in  the  evening  I  had  my  packets 
ready  and  neatly  prejiared  for  the  mail,  which  then  ran 
to  the  West  thiice  a  week  and  left  next  morning  ;  and  I 
had  good  hopes  that  he  would  send  them  untouched.  But 
great  was  my  dismay  when  he  fell  into  a  rage  over  the  first 
he  picked  up,  and  asked  me  bluntly  if  I  was  quite  a  fool. 

I  stammered  some  answer,  and  asked  in  confusion  what 
was  the  matter. 

"Everything,"  he  said.  "Here,  let  me  see  !  Why, 
you  dolt  and  dunderhead,  you  have  sent  letters  in  iden- 
tical terms  to  Frome  and  Bridport." 


SHREWSBURY  97 

"Yes,"  I  said  faintly. 

"But  the  one  is  AVliig  and  the  other  is  Tory!"  he 
cried . 

"But  the  news,  sir,"  I  made  bold  to  answer,  "is  the 
same. ' ' 

"  Is  it  ?  "  he  cried  in  fine  contempt.  "  Why  you  are  a 
natural  !  I  thought  you  liad  learned  something  by  this 
time.  -Here,  where  is  the  Frome  letter?  '  "^  The  Lon- 
don Gazette  ''  announces  that  His  Majesty  has  been  gra- 
ciously pleased  to  reward  my  Lord  Rochester s  services  at 
the  Treasury  Board  hy  raising  Mm  to  the  dignity  of 
Lord  President  of  the  Council,  an  elevation  which  renders 
necessary  his  resignation  of  his  seat  at  the  Board.'  Tut- 
tut!  Tliat  is  the  Court  tone.  Here,  out  with  it,  and 
write : — 

"  '  The  Earl  of  Rochester's  removal  from  the  Treasury 
Board  to  the  Presidency  of  the  Couiicil,  ivhich  is  an- 
nounced in  "  The  Gazette,"  is  very  ivell  understood.  His 
lordship  made  tvhat  resistance  he  could,  hut  the  facts  zuere 
plain,  and  the  King  could  do  no  othcrunse.  Rumour  has 
it  that  the  sum  lost  to  the  country  in  the  manner  already 
hinted  exceeds  fifty  thousand  guineas' 

"There,  what  comes  next?  ^  Letters  from  the  Con- 
tinent have  it  that  strong  recomme7idatio7is  have  been 

made  to  the  Court  at  the  Hague  to  dismiss  the  D of 

M ,  and  it  is  confidently  expected  that  the  next  packet 

will  bring  the  news  of  his  departure.'  Pooh,  out  with  it. 
Write  this: — 

"  '  The  D of  M is  still  at  the  Hague,  where  he 

is  being  sumptuously  entertained.     Much  is  7nade  of  His 

Majesty's  anger,  but  the  D is  well  supplied  ivith 

money  from  an  unknown  source,  which  some  take  to  be 
significant.  At  a  ball  given  by  their  Highnesses  on  the 
eleventh,  he  danced  an  English  country  dance  with  the 
Lady  Mary,  toherein  his  grace  and  skill  luon  all  hearts.' 

"That  is  better.     And  now  what  next?     'This  day 
7 


98  SHREWSBURY 

an  Ambassador  from  the  King  of  Si  am  in  the  East  Indies 
waited  on  His  Alajesty  with  great  marTcs  of  respect.' 
Umpli!     Well  leave  it,  but  add,  '  Ah,  si  sic  propiiis.' 

"And  then,  'There  are  rumours  that  His  Majesty 
intends  to  call  a  parliament  shortly,  in  which  plan  he  is 
hindered  only  by  the  state  of  his  gout.' 

"  Out  with  that  and  write  this: — '  In  the  city  is  much 
murm^iring  that  a  parliament  is  not  called.  Though 
His  Majesty  has  not  played  lately  at  tennis,  he  shoived 
himself  yesterday  in  Hyde  Park,  so  that  some  who  main- 
tain his  health  to  be  the  cause  deserve  ?io  iveight.  In  his 
company  were  His  Highness  the  DuTce  of  York  and  the 
French  Ambassador.' 

"  There,  you  fool,"  my  master  continued,  flinging  two- 
thirds  of  the  packets  back  to  me.  ' '  You  will  have  to 
amend  these,  and  another  time  you  will  know  better." 

Which  showed  me  that  I  had  still  something  to  learn; 
and  that  as  there  are  tricks  in  all  trades,  so  Mr.  Timothy 
Brome,  the  writer,  did  not  enjoy  without  reason  the  repu- 
tation of  the  most  popular  newsvendor  in  London.  But 
as  I  addressed  myself  to  the  business  with  zeal,  I  presently 
began  to  acquire  a  mastery  over  his  methods;  and  my 
knowledge  of  public  affairs  growing  with  each  day's  work, 
as  in  such  an  employment  it  could  not  fail  to  grow,  I  was 
able  before  very  long  to  take  the  composition  of  the  let- 
ters in  a  great  measure  off  his  hands;  leaving  him  free  to 
walk  Change  Alley  and  the  coffee-houses,  where  his  snuff- 
coloured  suit  and  snappish  wit  were  as  well  known  as  his 
secret  charity  was  little  suspected. 

In  private,  indeed,  he  was  of  so  honest  a  disposition, 
his  faults  of  temper  notwithstanding,  as  to  cause  me  at 
first  some  surprise  ;  since  I  fancied  an  incompatibility 
between  this  and  the  laxity  of  his  public  views;  which  he 
carried  so  far  that  he  was  not  only  a  political  skeptic  him- 
self, but  held  all  others  to  be  the  same;  maintaining  that 
the  best  public  men  were  only  of   this  or  that   colour 


SHREWSBURY  99 

because  it  suited  their  pockets  or  ambitions,  and  that,  of 
all,  he  respected  most  Lord  Halifax  and  his  party,  who 
at  least  trimmed  openly,  and  never  cried  loudly  for  either 
extreme. 

But  as  his  actions  in  other  matters  bettered  his  profes- 
sions, so  I  presently  found  that  in  this  too  he  belied 
himself;  which  was  made  clear  when  he  came  to  the  test. 
For  the  death  of  King  Charles  the  Second  occurring  soon 
after  I  came  to  serve  him — so  soon  that  I  still  winced 
when  my  former  life  was  probed,  and  hated  a  woman  and 
trembled  at  sight  of  a  constable,  and  wondered  if  this 
were  really  I,  who  went  to  and  fro  daily  from  my  garret 
in  Bride  Lane  to  St.  Dunstan's — the  death,  I  say,  of  the 
King  occurring  just  at  that  time,  we  were  speedily  over- 
whelmed by  a  rush  of  events  so  momentous  and  following 
so  quickly  one  on  another  that  they  threw  the  old  see-saw 
of  Court  and  Country  off  its  balance;  and  upset  with  it  the 
minds  of  many  who  had  hitherto  clung  firmly  to  a  party. 
For  the  King  had  been  scarcely  laid  very  quietly — some 
thought,  meanly — in  his  grave  and  the  Duke  of  York 
been  proclaimed  by  the  title  of  James  the  Second,  when 
those  who  had  fled  the  country  in  the  last  reign,  either 
after  the  Rye  House  Plot,  or  later  with  Monmouth, 
returned  and  kindled  two  great  insurrections,  that  of  the 
Marquess  of  Argyle  in  the  north,  and  that  of  the  Duke 
of  Monmouth  in  the  west.  Occurring  almost  simultane- 
ously, it  was  wonderful  to  see  how,  in  spite  of  the  cry  of 
a  Popish  King,  and  the  Protestant  religion  in  danger, 
which  the  rebels  everywhere  raised,  these  outbreaks  rallied 
all  prudent  folk  to  the  King;  whose  popularity  never, 
before  or  afterwards,  stood  so  high  as  on  the  day  of  the 
battle  of  Sedgmoor. 

And  doubtless  he  might  have  retained  the  confidence  and 
affection  of  his  people,  and  by  these  means  attained  to  the 
utmost  of  his  legitimate  wishes — I  mean  the  relief  of  the 
papists  from  penal  clauses  if  not  from  civil  disabilities — 


100  SHREWSBURY 

had  he  gone  about  it  discreetly,  and  with  the  moderation 
wliich  so  delicate  a  matter  required.  But  in  the  outset 
the  severity  with  which  the  w^estern  rebels  were  punished, 
both  by  the  military  after  the  rout  and  by  the  Lord  Chief 
Justice  at  the  Assizes  which  followed,  gave  check  to  his 
popularity;  and  thenceforth  for  three  years  all  went  one 
way.  The  Test  Acts,  abrogated  at  the  first  in  a  case  here 
and  there  (yet  ominously  in  such,  in  particular,  as 
favoured  the  admission  of  papists  to  the  army),  were  pres- 
ently nullified,  with  other  acts  of  a  like  character,  by  a 
general  declaration  of  indulgence;  and  that,  to  the  dis- 
gust of  the  clergy,  to  be  read  in  the  churches.  To  this 
main  assault  on  the  passive  obedience  which  the  Church 
had  so  often  preached,  and  to  which  it  still  fondly  clang, 
were  added  innumerable  meaner  attacks  perhaps  more 
humiliating;  as  the  expulsion  of  the  Protestant  Fellows 
from  jMagdalene  College,  the  conversion  of  University 
College  into  a  Eomisli  Seminary,  and  the  dismissal  of  my 
Lords  Eochester  and  Clarendon,  the  King's  brothers-in- 
law,  from  all  their  places  because — as  was  everywhere 
rumoured — they  would  not  resign  the  creed  in  which 
they  had  been  born. 

It  were  lonsr  to  recount  all  the  other  errors  into  which 
the  King  fell;  but  I  may  lay  stress  on  the  dissolution  of 
a  most  loyal  Parliament,  because  it  would  not  legalise 
his  measures;  on  the  open  and  shameless  attempt  to  j^ack 
its  successor,  on  the  corruption  of  the  Judges,  and  on  the 
trial  of  the  seven  bishops  for  sedition.  It  were  shorter 
and  equally  to  the  point  to  say  that  an  administration 
conducted  for  three  years  on  these  lines,  sufficed  not  only 
to  sap  the  patient  loyalty  of  the  nation,  but  to  rouse  from 
its  rest  the  political  conscience  of  my  employer.  Mr. 
Brome,  after  much  muttering  and  many  snappish  correc- 
tions and  alterations,  all  tending  (as  I  soon  perceived)  to 
Whiggery,  resigned,  on  the  day  the  Fellows  of  Magdalene 
were  expelled,  his  time-honoured  system  of  duplicity;  and 


SHREWSBURY  101 

thenceforward,  until  the  end,  issued  the  same  letter  to 
Tory  squire  and  Whig  borough  alike. 

AVliat  was  more  remarkable,  and,  had  the  King  known, 
it  might  have  served  his  obstinate  Majesty  for  a  warning, 
we  lost  no  patrons  by  the  step;  but  rather  increased  our 
readers;  the  whole  nation  by  this  time  being  of  one  mind. 
When  the  end  came  therefore,  and  in  answer  to  the 
famous-  Invitation  signed  by  the  Seven,  the  Deliverer,  as 
the  Whig  party  still  love  to  call  him,  landed  at  Torbay, 
and  with  scarcely  a  blow,  and  no  life  lost,  entered  Lon- 
don, there  were  few  among  those  who  ruffled  it  in  his 
train,  as  he  rode  to  St.  James's,  who  had  done  as  much 
to  bring  him  to  his  throne  as  my  master;  though  he,  good 
honest  man,  wore  neither  spurs  nor  sword,  and  stood 
humbly  a-foot  in  the  mouth  of  an  alley  to  see  the  show 
goby. 


CHAPTER   XII 

I  SUPPOSE  that  there  never  was  an  abrupt  change  in  the 
government  of  a  nation  more  quietly,  successfully,  and 
bloodlessly  carried  through  than  our  great  Revolution. 
But  it  is  the  way  of  the  pendulum  to  swing  back;  and  it 
was  not  long  before  those  who  had  been  most  deeply  con- 
cerned in  the  event  began  to  reflect  and  compare,  nor, 
as  they  had  before  them  the  example  of  the  Civil  War 
and  the  subsequent  restoration  besides,  and  were  persons 
bred  for  tlie  most  part  in  an  atmosphere  of  Divine  Right 
and  passive  obedience  (whether  they  had  imbibed  those 
doctrines  or  not),  was  it  wonderful  if  a  proportion  of  them 
began  to  repeut  at  leisure  what  they  had  done  in  haste. 
The  late  King's  harsh  aud  iui})lacable  temper,  and  the 
severity  with  which  he  had  su^jpressed  one  rising,  were 
not  calculated  to  reassure  men  when  they  began  to  doubt. 


102  SHREWSBURY 

The  possibility  of  his  return  hung  like  a  thick  cloud  over 
the  more  timid  ;  while  the  favours  whicli  the  uew  King 
showered  on  his  Dutchmen,  the  degradation  of  the  coin 
and  of  trade,  and  the  many  disasters  that  attended  the 
first  years  of  the  new  government  were  sufficient  to  shake 
the  confidence  and  chill  the  hearts  even  of  the  stoutest 
and  most  patriotic. 

So  bad  was  the  aspect  of  things  that  it  was  rumoured 
that  King  William  would  abdicate;  and  this  aggravating 
the  general  uncertainty,  many  in  high  places  spent  their 
days  in  a  dreadful  looking  forward  to  judgment  ;  nor 
ever,  I  believe,  slept  without  dreaming  of  Tower  Hill,  the 
axe,  and  the  sawdust.  The  result  that  was  natural  fol- 
lowed. While  many  hastened  to  make  a  secret  peace  with 
St.  Germain's,  others,  either  as  a  matter  of  conscience  or 
because  they  felt  that  they  had  offended  too  deeply, 
remained  constant;  but  perceiving  treachery  in  the  air, 
and  being  in  daily  fear  of  invasion,  breathed  nothing  but 
threats  and  slaughter  against  the  seceders.  This  begot  a 
period  of  plots  and  counter-plots,  of  perjury  and  intrigue, 
of  denunciations  and  accusations  real  and  feigned,  such 
as  I  believe  no  other  country  has  ever  known ;  the  Jaco- 
bites considering  a  restoration  certain,  and  the  time  only 
doubtful ;  while  the  Whigs  in  their  hearts  were  inclined 
to  ao-ree  witli  them  and  feared  the  worst. 

During  seven  such  years  I  lived  and  worked  with  Mr. 
Brome;  who,  partly,  I  think,  because  he  had  come  late  to 
his  political  bearings,  and  partly  because  the  Tories  and 
Jacobites  had  a  newswriterin  the  notorious  Mr.  Dyer — to 
whose  letters  Mr.  Dryden,  it  was  said,  would  sometimes 
contribute — remained  steadfast  in  his  Whig  opinions  ; 
and  did  no  little  in  the  country  parts  to  lessen  the  stir 
which  the  Nonjurors'  complaints  created.  I  saw  much 
of  him  and  little  of  others  ;  and  being  honestly  busy  and 
honourably  employed — not  that  my  style  made  any  noise 
in  the  cofEee-houses,  which  was  scarcely  to  be  expected, 


SHREWSBURY  103 

since  it  passed  for  Mr.  Brome's — I  began  to  regard  my 
life  before  I  came  to  London  as  an  ugly  dream.  Yet  it 
had  left  me  with  two  proclivities  which  are  not  common 
at  the  age  which  I  had  then  reached  ;  the  one  a  love  of 
solitude  and  a  retired  life,  which,  a  matter  of  necessity  at 
first,  grew  by-and-by  into  a  habit;  the  other  an  averseness 
for  women  that  amounted  almost  to  a  fear  of  them.  Mr. 
Brome,  who  was  a  confirmed  bachelor,  did  nothing  to  alter 
my  views  on  either  point,  or  to  reconcile  me  to  the  world  ; 
and  as  my  life  was  passed  between  my  attic  in  Bride  Lane 
and  his  apartment  in  Fleet  Street,  where  he  had  a  toler- 
able library,  few  were  better  acquainted  with  public  affairs 
or  had  less  experience  of  private,  than  I  ;  or  knew  more 
intimately  the  order  of  the  signs  and  the  aspect  of  the 
houses  between  the  Fleet  Prison  and  St.  Dunstan's 
Church. 

Partly  out  of  fear,  and  partly  out  of  a  desire  to  be  done 
with  my  former  life,  I  made  myself  known  to  no  one  in 
Hertfordsliire;  but,  some  five  years  after  my  arrival  in 
London,  having  a  sudden  craving  to  see  my  mother,  I 
walked  down  one  Sunday  to  Epping.  There  making 
cautious  enquiries  of  the  Bishop  Stortford  carrier,  I  heard 
of  her  death,  and  on  the  return  journey  burst  once  into  a 
great  fit  of  weeping  at  the  thought  of  some  kind  word  or 
other  she  had  spoken  to  me  on  a  remembered  occasion. 
But  with  this  tribute  to  nature  I  dismissed  my  family, 
and  even  that  good  friend  from  my  mind  ;  going  back  to 
my  lodging  with  a  contentment  which  this  glimpse  of  my 
former  life  wondrously  augmented. 

Of  Mr.  D or  of  the  wicked  woman  who  had  deceived 

me  I  was  not  likely  to  hear  ;  but  there  w^as  one,  and  he 
the  only  stranger  who  ante  Londinium  had  shown  me 
kindness,  whose  name  my  pen  was  frequently  called  on  to 
transcribe,  and  whose  fame  was  even  in  those  days  in  all 
men's  mouths.  With  a  thrill  of  pleasure  I  heard  that 
my  Lord   Shrewsbury  had  been  one  of  the  seven  who 


104  SHREWSBURY 

signed  the  famous  invitation  :  then  that  the  King  had 
named  him  one  of  the  two  Secretaries  of  State;  and  again 
after  two  years,  during  which  his  doings  filled  more  and 
more  of  the  public  ear — so  that  he  stood  for  the  govern- 
ment— that  he  had  suddenly  and  mysteriously  resigned 
all  his  offices  and  retired  into  the  country.  Later  still,  in 
the  same  year,  in  the  sad  days  which  followed  the  defeat 
of  Beachy  Head,  Avhen  a  French  fleet  sailed  the  Channel, 
and  in  the  King's  absence,  the  most  confident  quailed,  I 
heard  that  he  had  ridden  post  to  Kensington  to  place  his 
sword  and  purse  at  the  Queen's  feet;  and,  later  still,  1G94, 
when  three  years  of  silence  had  obscured  his  memory,  I 
heard  with  pleasure,  and  the  world  with  surprise,  that  he 
had  accepted  his  old  office,  and  stood  higher  than  ever  in 
the  King's  favour. 

The  next  year  Queen  Mary  died.  This,  as  it  left  only 
the  King's  life  between  the  Jacobites  and  a  Eestoration, 
increased  as  well  their  activity  as  the  precautions  of  the 
government ;  whose  most  difficult  task  lay  in  sifting  the 
wheat  from  the  chafl"  and  discerning  between  the  fictions 
of  a  crowd  of  false  witnesses  (who  thronged  the  Secre- 
tary's office  and  lived  by  this  new  trade)  and  the  genuine 
disclosures  of  their  own  sj)ies  and  informers.  In  the  pre- 
carious position  in  which  the  government  stood,  ministers 
dared  neglect  nothing,  nor  even  stand  on  scruples.  In 
moments  of  alarm,  therefore,  it  was  no  uncommon  thing 
to  close  the  gates  and  prosecute  a  house  to  house  search 
for  Jacobites  ;  the  most  notorious  being  seized  and  the 
addresses  of  the  less  dangerous  taken.  One  of  these 
searches  which  surprised  the  city  in  the  month  of  Decem- 
ber, '95,  had  for  me  results  so  important  that  I  may 
make  it  the  beginning  of  a  consecutive  narrative. 

I  happened  to  be  sitting  in  my  attic  that  evening  over 
a  little  coal  fire,  putting  into  shape  some  Whig  reflections 
on  the  Coinage  Bill ;  our  newsletter  tending  more  and 
more  to  take  the  form  of  a  pamphlet,     A  frugal  supper. 


SHREWSBURY  105 

long  postponed,  stood  at  my  elbow,  and  tlie  first  I  knew 
of  the  search  that  was  afoot,  a  man  without  warninsT 
opened  my  door,  which  was  on  the  latch,  and  thrust  in 
his  head. 

Naturally  I  rose  in  alarm;  and  we  stared  at  one  another 
by  the  light  of  my  one  candle.  Only  the  intruder's  head 
and  shoulders  were  in  the  room,  but  I  could  see  that  he 
wore  bauds  and  a  cassock,  and  a  great  bird's  nest  wig, 
which  overhung  a  beak-like  nose  and  bright  eyes. 

"Sir,"  said  he  after  a  moment's  pause,  during  which 
the  eyes  leaving  me  glittered  to  every  part  of  the  room, 
"I  see  you  are  alone,  and  have  a  very  handy  curtain 
there." 

I  gasped,  but  to  so  strange  an  exordium  had  nothing  to 
say.  The  stranger  nodded  at  that  as  if  satisfied,  and  slowly 
edging  his  body  into  the  room,  disclosed  to  my  sight  the 
tallest  and  most  uncouth  figure  imaginable.  A  long  face 
ending  in  a  tapering  chin  added  much  to  the  grotesque 
ugliness  of  his  aspect;  in  spite  of  which  his  features  wore 
a  smirk  of  importance,  and  though  he  breathed  quickly, 
like  a  man  pressed  and  in  haste,  it  was  impossible  not  to 
see  that  he  was  master  of  himself. 

And  of  me;  for  when  I  went  to  ask  his  meaning,  he 
shot  out  his  great  under-lip  at  me,  and  showed  me  the 
long  barrel  of  a  horse  pistol  that  he  carried  under  his  cas- 
sock.    I  recoiled. 

"  Good  sir,"  he  said,  with  an  ugly  grin,  "  'tis  an  argu- 
ment I  thought  would  have  weight  with  you.  To  be 
short,  I  have  to  ask  your  hospitality.  There  is  a  search 
for  Jacobites  ;  at  any  moment  tlie  messengers  may  be 
here.  I  live  opposite  to  you  and  am  a  Nonjuring  clergy- 
man liable  to  suspicion;  you  are  a  fi-iend  to  Mr.  Timothy 
Brome,  who  is  known  to  stand  well  with  the  government. 
I  propose  therefore  to  hide  behind  the  curtain  of  your 
bed.  Your  room  will  not  be  searched,  nor  shall  I  be 
found  if  you  play  your  part.     If  you  fail  to  jilay  it — then 


106  SHREWSBURY 

I  shall  be  taken;  but  you,  my  dear  friend,  will  not  see 
it." 

He  said  the  last  words  with  another  of  his  hideous  grins, 
and  tapped  the  barrel  of  his  pistol  with  so  much  meaning 
that  I  felt  the  blood  leave  my  cheeks.  He  took  this  for  a 
proof  of  his  prowess;  and  nodding,  as  well  content,  he 
stood  a  moment  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  listened 
with  the  tail  of  his  eye  on  me. 

He  had  no  reason  to  watch  me,  however,  for  I  was 
unarmed  and  cowed  ;  nor  had  we  stood  many  seconds 
before  a  noise  of  voices  and  weapons  with  the  trampling 
of  feet  broke  out  on  the  stairs,  and  at  once  confirmed  his 
story  and  proved  the  urgency  of  his  need.  Apparently 
he  was  aware  of  the  course  things  would  take  and  that 
the  constables  and  messengers  would  first  search  the  lower 
floors;  for  instead  of  betaking  himself  forthwith  to  his 
place  of  hiding — as  seemed  natural — he  looked  cunningly 
round  the  chamber,  and  bade  me  sit  down  to  my  papers. 
"Do  you  say  at  once  that  you  are  Mr.  Brome's  writer," 
he  continued  with  an  oatli,  "  and  mark  me  well,  my  man. 
Betray  me  by  a  word  or  sign,  and  I  strew  your  brains  on 
the  floor!" 

After  that  threat,  and  though  he  went  then,  and  hid 
his  hateful  face — which  already  filled  me  with  fear  and 
repugnance  beyond  words — behind  the  curtain,  where 
between  bed  and  wall,  there  was  a  slender  space,  I  had 
much  ado  to  keep  my  seat  and  my  self-control.  In  the 
silence  which  filled  the  room  I  could  hear  his  breathing  ; 
and  I  felt  sure  that  the  searchers  must  hear  it  also  when 
they  entered.  Assured  that  the  Sancrofts  and  Kens,  and 
the  honest  but  misguided  folk  who  followed  them,  did 
not  carry  pistols,  I  gave  no  credit  to  his  statement  that  he 
was  a  Nonjuring  parson;  but  deemed  him  some  desperate 
highwayman  or  plotter,  whose  presence  in  my  room, 
should  he  be  discovered  and  should  I  by  good  luck  escape 
his  malice,  would  land  me  at  the  best  in  Bridewell  or  the 


SHREWSBURY  107 

Marshalsea.  By-and-by  the  candle-wick  grew  long,  and 
terrified  at  the  jirospect  of  being  left  in  the  dark  with  him, 
I  went  to  snulf  it.  With  a  savage  word  he  whispered  me 
to  let  it  be;  after  which  I  had  no  choice  but  to  sit  in  fear 
and  semi-darkness,  listening  to  the  banging  of  doors  below, 
and  the  alternate  rising  and  falling  of  voices,  as  the  search 
l^arty  entered  or  issued  from  the  successive  rooms. 

In  my  chamber  with  its  four  whitewashed  walls  and 
few  sticks  of  furniture  there  was  only  one  j^lace  where  a 
man  could  stand  and  be  unseen;  and  that  was  behind  the 
curtain.  There,  I  thought,  the  most  heedless  messenger 
must  search;  and  as  I  listened  to  the  steps  ascending  the 
last  flight  I  was  in  an  agony.  I  foresaw  the  moment 
when  the  constable  would  carelessly  and  ]:)erfunctorily 
draw  the  curtain — and  then  the  flash,  the  report,  the  cry, 
the  mad  struggle  up  and  down  the  room,  which  would 
follow. 

So  strong  was  this  impression,  that  though  I  had  been 
waiting  minutes  when  the  summons  came  and  a  hand 
struck  my  door,  I  could  not  at  once  find  voice  to  speak. 
The  latch  was  up,  and  the  door  half  open  when  I  cried 
"Enter  !  "  and  rose. 

In  the  doorway  ai^peared  three  or  four  faces,  a  couple 
of  lanthorns,  held  high,  and  a  gleam  of  pike-heads. 
''Richard  Price,  servant  to  Mr.  Brome,  the  newswriter," 
cried  one  of  the  visitors,  reading  in  a  sonorous  voice  from 
a  paper, 

"Well  affected,"  answered  a  second — evidently  the 
person  in  command.  "  Brome  is  a  good  man.  I  know 
him.     No  one  hidden  here?  " 

"No,"  I  said,  with  a  loudness  and  boldness  that  sur- 
prised me. 

"  No  lodger,  my  man  ?  " 

"None  !" 

"  Right  !  "  he  answered.  "  Good-night,  and  God  save 
King  William  !  " 


108  SHREWSBURY 

"Amen!"  quoth  I;  aud  then,  and  not  before,  my 
knees  began  to  shake. 

However,  it  no  longer  mattered,  for  before  I  coukl  be- 
lieve that  the  danger  was  over  they  were  gone  and  had 
closed  the  door;  and  I  caught  a  sniggering  laugh  behind 
the  curtain.  Still  they  had  gone  no  farther  than  the 
stairs  ;  I  heard  them  knock  on  the  opposite  door  and 
troop  in  there,  and  I  caught  the  tones  of  a  woman's  voice, 
young  and  fresh,  answering  them.  But  in  a  minute  they 
came  out  again,  apparently  satisfied,  and  crowded  down 
stairs;  wdiereon  the  man  behind  the  curtain  laughed  again, 
and  swaggering  out,  Bobadil-like,  shook  his  fist  with  furi- 
ous gestures  after  them. 

"  Damn  your  King  William,  and  you  too!  "  he  cried  in 
ferocious  triumj)h.  "  One  of  these  days  God  will  squeeze 
him  like  the  rotten  orange  he  is  ;  and  if  God  will  not,  I 
will!  I,  Robert  Ferguson  !  Trot,  for  the  set  of  pudding- 
headed  blind-eyed  moles  that  you  are  !  Call  yourselves 
constables  !  Bah  !  But  as  for  you,  my  friend,"  he  con- 
tinued, turning  to  me  and  throwing  his  pistol  with  a  crash 
on  the  table,  "you  have  more  spunk  than  I  thought  you 
had,  and  spoke  up  like  a  gentleman  of  mettle.  There  is 
my  hand  on  it  !  " 

My  throat  was  so  dry  that  I  could  not  speak,  but  I  gave 
him  my  hand. 

He  gripped  it  and  threw  it  from  him  with  a  boastful 
gesture,  and  stalking  to  the  farther  side  of  the  room  and 
back  again,  "There!"  cried  he.  "Now  you  can  say 
that  you  have  touched  hands  with  Ferguson,  the  famous 
Ferguson,  the  Ferguson  on  whose  head  a  thousand  guineas 
have  been  set  !  Ferguson  the  Kingmaker,  who  defied 
three  Kings  and  made  three  Kings  and  will  yet  make  a 
fourth  !  Fire  and  furies,  do  a  set  of  boozing  tipstaves 
think  to  take  the  man  who  outwitted  Jeffreys  and  slipj^ed 
through  Kirke's  lambs?  " 

Hearing  who  he  Avas,  I  stared  at  him  in  astonishment ; 


DAMN  YOUR  KINC  WII.IJAM,  AND  YOU  TOO  !  '  HE  CRIED 


SHREWSBURY  111 

but  in  astonishment  largely  leavened  with  fear  and 
hatred  ;  for  I  knew  the  reputation  he  enjoyed,  and  both 
what  he  had  done,  and  of  what  he  was  suspected.  That 
in  all  his  adventures  and  intrigues  he  had  borne  a  cliarmed 
life;  and  where  Sidney  and  Russell,  Argyle  and  Mon- 
mouth, Rumbold  and  Ayloffe  had  suffered  on  the  scaffold, 
he  had  escaped  scot  free  was  one  thing  and  certain  ;  but 
that  men  accounted  for  this  in  strange  Avays  was  another 
scarcely  less  assured.  While  his  friends  maintained  that 
he  owed  his  immunity  to  a  singular  skill  in  disguise,  his 
enemies,  and  men  who  were  only  so  far  his  enemies  as 
they  were  the  enemies  of  all  that  was  most  base  in  human 
nature,  asserted  that  this  had  little  to  do  with  it,  but  went 
so  far  as  to  say  that  in  all  his  plots,  with  Russell  and  with 
Monmouth,  with  Argyle  and  with  Ayloffe,  he  had  played 
booty,  and  played  the  traitor  :  and  tempting  men,  and 
inviting  men  to  the  gibbet,  had  taken  good  care  to  go 
one  step  farther — and  by  betraying  them  to  secure  his 
own  neck  from  peril  ! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Such  was  the  man  I  saw  before  me  ;  on  whose  face,  as 
if  heaven  purposed  to  warn  his  fellows  against  him,  malig- 
nant passion  and  an  insane  vanity  were  so  plainly  stamped 
that  party  spirit  must  have  gone  to  lengths,  indeed,  before 
it  rendered  men  blind  to  his  quality.  His  shambling  gait 
seemed  a  fitting  conveyance  for  a  gaunt,  stooping  figure 
so  awkward  and  uncouth  that  when  he  gave  way  to  ges- 
ticulation it  seemed  to  be  moved  by  wires  ;  yet,  once  he 
looked  askance  at  you,  face  and  figure  were  forgotten  in 
the  gleam  of  the  eyes  that,  treacherous  and  cruel,  leered 
at  you  from  the  penthouse  of  his  huge,  ill-fitting  wig. 


113  SHREWSBURY 

Nevertheless,  I  confess  that,  while  I  liated  and  loathed 
the  man,  he  cowed  me.  His  latest  escape  had  intoxicated 
him,  and  astride  on  my  table,  or  stalking  the  floor,  he  gave 
way  to  his  vanity.  Pouring  out  a  flood  of  ribald  threats 
and  imaginings,  he  now  hinted  at  the  fate  which  had 
never  failed  to  befall  those  who  thwarted  him  ;  now  he 
boasted  of  his  cunning  and  his  hundred  intrigues,  and 
now  he  touched,  not  obscurely,  on  some  great  design  soon 
to  bs  executed.  His  audacity,  no  less  than  his  frankness, 
bewildered  me  ;  for  if  he  did  not  tell  me  all,  he  told 
enough,  were  it  true,  to  hang  a  man.  Yet  I  soon  found 
that  he  had  method  in  his  madness;  for  while  I  listened 
with  a  shamefaced  air,  hating  him  and  meditating  in- 
forming against  him  the  moment  I  was  freed  froni  his 
presence,  he  turned  on  me  with  a  hideous  grin,  and 
thrusting  the  muzzle  of  his  pistol  against  my  temple, 
swore  with  endless  curses  to  slay  me  if  I  betrayed  him. 

"  You  will  go  to  Brome  to-morrow,  as  usual,"  he  said. 
"The  Whiggish  old  dotard,  I  could  pluck  out  his  in- 
wards !  And  you  will  say  not  one  word  of  Mr.  Ferguson  ! 
For,  mark  me,  sirrah  Dick,  alone  or  in  company  I  shall 
be  at  your  elbow,  nor  will  all  Cutts's  guards  avail  to  save 

you  !     Do  you  mark  me  ?     Then  d you,   down  on 

your  knees  !  Down  on  your  knees,  you  white-livered 
dog,  and  swear  by  the  Gospels  you  will  tell  no  living  soul 
by  tongue  or  pen  that  you  have  seen  me." 

He  pressed  the  cold  steel  muzzle  to  my  temple  and  I 
knelt  and  swore.  When  it  was  done,  he  roared  and  jeered 
at  me.  "  You  see,  I  have  my  oath  !  "  he  cried,  "  as  well 
as  Little  Hooknose  !  And  no  non-jurors  !  Now  say 
'  Down  with  King  AVilliam  ! '  " 

I  said  it. 

"  Louder  !     Louder  !  "  he  cried. 

I  could  only  comply. 

"  Now,  write  it  !  Write  it  !  "  he  continued,  thrusting  a 
piece  of  paper  under  my  nose,  and  slapping  his  huge  hand 


HE    PRESSED    THE   RING    OF    CUl.U    STEEL 


SHREWSBURY  115 

upon  it.  "I'll  have  it  in  black  and  white!  Or  write 
this — ha!  ha!  that  will  be  better.  Are  you  ready?  Write, 
'  I  hereby  abjure  my  allegiance  to  Prince  William.'  " 

"  No,"  I  said  faintly,  laying  down  the  pen  which  I  had 
taken  up  at  his  bidding.     "  I  will  not  write  it." 

"  You  10  ill  write  it  !  "  he  answered  in  a  terrible  tone. 
"  And  within  a  very  few  seconds.  Write  it  at  once,  sirrah  ! 
'  I  hereby  abjure  my  allegiance  to  Prince  William  ! '  " 

I  wrote  it  with  a  shaking  hand,  after  a  glance  at  the 
pistol  muzzle. 

"  And  swear  that  I  regard  King  James  as  my  lawful 
sovereign.  And  I  undertake  to  obey  the  rules  of  the  St. 
Germain's  Club,  and  to  forward  its  interests.  Good  ! 
Now  sign  it." 

I  did  so. 

"  Date  it,"  cried  the  tyrant;  and  when  I  had  done  so 
he  snatched  the  paper  from  me  and  flourished  it  in  the 
air,  "  There  is  my  passport  !  "  quoth  he,  with  an  exul- 
tant laugh.  "  When  I  am  taken  that  will  be  taken,  and 
when  that  is  taken  the  worse  for  Mr.  Richard  Price  if  he 
is  taken.  He  will  taste  of  the  hangman's  lash.  So  ! 
You  are  a  clever  fellow,  Richard  Price,  but  Robert  Fer- 
guson is  your  master,  as  he  has  been  better  men's  !  " 

The  man  was  so  much  in  love  with  cruelty,  that  even 
when  he  had  gained  his  point  he  could  not  bear  to  give  up 
the  pleasure  of  torturing  me;  and  for  half  an  hour  he  con- 
tinued to  flout  and  jeer  at  me,  sometimes  picturing  my 
fate  if  the  paper  fell  into  the  Secretary's  hands,  and  some- 
times threatening  me  with  his  pistol,  and  making  sport 
of  my  alarm.  At  last,  reluctantly,  and  after  many  warn- 
ings of  what  would  happen  to  me  if  I  informed,  he  took 
himself  off  ;  and  I  heard  him  go  into  the  opposite  rooms, 
and  slam  the  door. 

Be  sure  I  was  not  long  in  securing  mine  after  him  !  I 
was  in  a  pitiable  state  of  terror  ;  shaking  at  thought  of 
the  man's  return,  and  in  an  ague  when  I  considered  the 


116  SHREWSBURY 

power  over  me,  which  the  paper  I  had  signed  gave  him. 
I  conld  hardly  believe  that,  in  so  short  a  time,  anything 
so  dreadful  had  happened  to  me  !  Yet  it  were  hard  to 
say  whether,  with  all  my  terror,  I  did  not  hate  him  more 
than  I  feared  him;  for  though  at  one  time  my  heart  was 
water  when  I  thought  of  betraying  him,  at  another  it 
glowed  with  rage  and  loathing,  and  to  spite  him,  and  to 
free  myself  from  him,  I  would  risk  anything.  And  as  I 
was  not  wanting  in  foresight,  and  could  picture  with  little 
difficulty  the  slavery  in  which  he  would  hold  me  from 
that  day  forward — and  wherein  his  cruel  spirit  would 
delight — it  was  the  latter  mood  that  prevailed  with  me, 
and  determined  my  action  when  morning  came. 

Reflecting  that  I  could  expect  no  mercy  from  him,  but 
had  little  to  fear  from  the  Government,  if  I  told  my  tale 
frankly,  I  determined  at  all  risks  to  go  to  the  Secretary. 
I  would  have  done  so,  the  moment  I  rose,  the  thought 
that  at  any  moment  he  might  burst  in  upon  me  keeping 
me  in  a  cold  sweat ;  but  I  was  prudent  enough  to  abide 
by  my  habits,  and  refrain  from  anticipating  by  a  second 
the  hour  at  which  it  was  my  custom  to  descend.  I 
waited  in  the  utmost  trepidation,  therefore,  until  half-past 
seven,  when  with  a  quaking  heart,  but  a  mind  made  up, 
I  ventured  down  to  the  street. 

It  was  barely  light,  but  the  coffee-houses  were  open,  and 
between  early  customers  to  these,  and  barbers  passing  with 
their  curling  tongs,  and  milkmen  and  hawkers  plying 
morning  wares,  and  apprentices  setting  out  their  masters' 
goods,  the  ways  were  full  and  noisy;  so  that  I  had  no  rea- 
son to  fear  pursuit,  and  in  the  hubbub  gained  courage  the 
farther  I  left  my  oppressor  behind  me.  Nevertheless,  I 
took  the  precaution  of  going  first  to  Mr.  Brome's,  oppo- 
site St.  Dunstan's;  and  passing  in  there,  as  was  my  daily 
custom,  lingered  a  little  in  the  entry.  When  by  this  ruse 
I  had  made  assurance  doubly  sure,  I  slipped  out,  and 
went  through  the  crowded  Strand  to  Whitehall. 


SHREWSBURY  117 

Mr.  Brome  luid  a  species  of  nnderstauding  with  the 
Governmeut  ;  aud  ou  one  occasion  being  ill,  had  made 
me  his  messenger  to  the  Secretary's.  I  knew  the  place 
therefore,  but  none  the  less  gave  way  to  timidity  when  I 
saw  the  crowd  of  ushers,  s^^ies,  tipstaves,  and  busybodies 
that  hung  about  the  door  of  the  office,  aud  took  curious 
note  of  everyone  who  went  in  or  out.  My  heart  failed 
me  at -the  sight,  and  I  was  already  more  than  half  inclined 
to  go  aw^ay,  my  business  undone,  when  someone  touched 
my  sleeve,  and  I  started  and  turned.  A  girl  still  in  her 
teens,  with  a  keen  and  pinched  face,  and  a  handkerchief 
neatly  drawn  over  her  head,  handed  a  note  to  me. 

"For  me?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  she. 

I  took  it  on  that  and  opened  it,  my  hands  shaking. 
But  wdien  I  read  the  contents,  which  were  these — "Mr. 
Robert  Ferguson's  respects  to  the  Secretary,  and  he  has 
to-day  changed  his  lodging.  He  will  to-morrow  be 
pleased  to  supply  the  bearer's  character" — I  thought  I 
should  have  fallen  to  the  ground.  Kor  was  my  alarm 
the  less  for  the  reflection  which  immediately  arose  in  my 
mind  that  the  note  had  of  necessity  been  written  and 
despatched  before  I  left  Mr.  Brome's  door  ;  and  conse- 
quently before  I  had  taken  any  step  towards  the  execution 
of  my  design  ! 

Still,  wdiat  I  held  was  but  a  piece  of  paper  bearing  a 
message  from  a  man  proscribed,  who  dared  not  show  his 
face  where  I  stood.  A  word  to  the  doorkeepers  and  I 
might  even  now  go  in  and  lay  my  information.  But  the 
man's  omniscience  cowed  my  spirit,  terrified  me,  and 
broke  me  down.  Assured  after  this,  that  whatever  I  did 
or  wherever  I  went  he  would  know  and  be  warned  in 
time,  and  I  gain  by  my  information  nothing  but  the 
name  of  a  gull  or  a  cheat,  I  turned  from  the  door.  Then 
seeing  that  the  girl  waited,  "There  is  no  answer,"  I 
said. 


118  SHREWSBURY 

"  Will  you  i)lease  to  go  to  the  gentleman?  "  qnoth  she. 

My  jaw  dropped.  "  God  forbid  !  "  I  said,  beginning 
to  tremble. 

"  I  think  you  had  better,"  said  she. 

And  this  time  there  was  that  in  her  voice  roused  doubts 
in  me  and  made  me  waver — lest  what  I  had  done  prove 
insufficient,  and  he  betray  me,  though  I  refrained  from 
informing.  Sullenly,  therefore,  and  after  a  moment's 
thought,  I  asked  her  where  he  was. 

"I  am  not  to  tell  you,"  she  answered.  "You  can 
come  with  me  if  you  please." 

"Goon,"  I  said. 

She  cast  a  sharp  glance  at  the  group  about  the  office, 
then  turned,  and  walking  rapidly  north  by  Charing  Cross 
led  me  through  St.  Martin's  Lane  and  Bedford  Bury  to 
Covent  Garden.  Skirting  this,  she  threaded  Hart  Street 
and  Eed  Lion  Court,  and  crossing  Drury  Lane  conducted 
me  into  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  where  she  turned  sharply 
to  the  left  and  through  Ralph  Court  to  the  Turnstile. 
Seeing  that  she  lingered  here  and  from  time  to  time  looked 
back,  I  fancied  that  we  were  near  our  destination  ;  but 
starting  afresh,  she  led  me  along  Holborn  and  through 
Staple  Inn.  Presently  it  struck  me  that  we  were  near 
Bride  Lane,  and  I  cried  "  He  is  in  my  room  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said  gravely,  and  without  explanation. 
"If  he  pleases  you  will  find  him  there."  And  without 
more  she  signed  to  me  to  go  on,  and  disappeared  herself 
in  the  mouth  of  an  alley  by  Green's  Eents. 

It  did  please  him.  When  I  entered  with  the  air, 
doubtless,  of  a  whipped  hounil,  I  found  him  sitting  on 
my  table  swinging  his  legs  and  humming  an  air;  and  with 
so  devilish  a  look  of  malice  and  triumph  on  his  face  as 
sent  my  heart  into  my  boots.  Notwithstanding,  for  a 
while  it  was  his  humour  not  to  speak  to  me  but  to  leer  at 
me  askance  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eyes,  and  keej)  me  on 
tenterhooks,  expecting  what  he  would  say  or  do  ;    and 


SHREWSBURY  119 

this  he  maintained  until  he  had  finished  his  tune,  when 
with  a  grin  he  asked  after  his  friend  the  Secretary. 

"Was  it  Trumball  you  saw,  or  the  new  Duke?"  said 
he;  and  when  I  did  not  answer  he  roared  out  an  oath, 
and  snatching  up  the  pistol  which  lay  on  the  table 
beside  him,  levelled  it  at  me.  "  Answer,  will  you  ?  Do 
you  think  that  I  am  to  speak  twice  to  such  uncovenanted 
dirt  as -you  ?     Whom  did  you  see  ?  " 

"No  one,"  I  stammered,  trembling. 

"And  why  not?  "  he  cried.  "And  why  not,  you 
spawn  of  Satan?  " 

"  I  received  your  note,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  you  received  my  note!  "  he  whimpered,  dropping 
his  voice  and  mocking  my  alarm.  "  Your  lordshij)  re- 
ceived my  note,  did  you  ?  And  if  you  had  not  got  my 
note,  you  would  have  informed,  would  you  ?  You  w'ould 
have  informed  and  sent  me  to  the  gallows,  would  you  ? 
Answer  !     Answer,  or " 

"  Y^es  !  "  I  cried  in  an  agony  of  terror;  for  he  was 
bringing  the  pistol  nearer  and  nearer  to  my  face,  while 
his  finger  toyed  with  the  trigger,  and  at  any  moment 
might  press  it  too  sharply. 

"  So  !  And  you  tell  me  that  to  my  face,  do  you  ?  "  he 
answered,  eyeing  me  so  truculently,  that  I  held  up  my 
hands  and  backed  to  the  door.  "  You  dare  tell  me  that, 
do  you  ?     Come  here,  sirrah  !  " 

I  hesitated. 

"  Come  here  !  "  he  cried.     "  Or  by I  will  shoot 

you  !     For  the  last  time,  come  here  !  " 

I  went  nearer. 

"Oh,  but  I  would  like  to  see  you  in  the  boot  !  "  he 
said.  "  It  would  be  the  finest  sight  !  It  would  not  need 
a  turn  of  the  screw  to  make  you  cry  out  !  And  mind 
you,"  he  continued,  suddenly  seizing  my  ear  in  his  great 
hand,  and  twisting  it  until  I  screamed,  "  in  a  boot  of 
some  kind  or  other  I  shall  have  you — if  you  play  me  false  ! 


120  SHREWSBURY 

Do  yon  understand,  eh  ?     Do  you  understand,  you  slieep 
in  wolf's  clothing?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  I  cried.  "  Yes,  yes  !  "  He  had  forced  me 
to  my  knees,  and  brought  his  cruel  sneering  face  close  to 
mine. 

"  Very  well.  Then  get  up — if  you  have  learned  your 
lesson.  You  have  had  one  proof  that  I  know  more  than 
others.  Do  not  seek  another.  But,  umph — where  have 
I  seen  you  before.  Master  Trembler?  " 

I  said  humbly,  my  spirit  quite  broken,  that  I  did  not 
know. 

"No?"  he  answered,  staring  at  me  with  his  face 
puckered  up.  "  Yet  somewhere  I  have.  And  some  day 
I  shall  call  it  to  mind.  In  the  meantime — remember  that 
you  are  my  slave,  my  dog,  my  turnspit,  to  fetch  or  carry, 
cry  or  be  merry  at  my  will.  You  will  sleep  or  wake,  go 
or  come  as  I  bid  you.  And  so  long  as  you  do  that — 
Richard  Price,  you  shall  live.  But  on  the  day  you  play 
me  false,  or  whisper  my  name  to  living  soul — on  that  day, 
or  within  the  week,  you  will  hang  !  Do  you  hear,  hang, 
you  Erastian  dog  !  Hang,  and  be  carrion:  with  Ayloffe, 
and  many  another  good  man,  that  would  stint  me,  and  take 


no  warning 


t  " 


CHAPTER   XIV 

Alas,  the  secret  subjection  into  which  I  fell  from  that 
day  onwards,  to  a  man  who  knew  neither  pity  nor  scruple 
— and  wielded  his  power  with  the  greater  enjoyment  and 
the  less  remorse  for  the  piquant  contrast  it  afforded  to  his 
position,  as  a  proscribed  and  hunted  traitor,  in  hiding  for 
his  life — exceeded  all  the  anticipations  of  it  which  I  had 
entertained.  Having  his  favourite  lodging  in  the  rooms 
opposite  mine,  he  was  ready,   when   the  cruel   humour 


SHREWSBURY  121 

seized  him,  to  sally  forth  and  mock  and  torment  me  ; 
while  the  privacy  of  his  movements  and  the  number  of 
his  disguises  (whence  it  arose  that  I  never  knew  until  I 
saw  him  whether  he  was  there  or  not)  kept  me  in  a  state 
of  suspense  and  misery  well  nigh  intolerable.  Yet  such 
was  the  spell  of  fear  under  which  he  had  contrived  to  lay 
me — he  being  a  violent  and  dangerous  man  and  I  no 
soldier^and  so  crafty  were  the  means,  no  less  than  the 
art,  by  which  he  gradually  wound  a  chain  about  me,  that 
in  spite  of  my  hatred  I  found  resistance  vain  ;  and  for  a 
long  time,  and  until  a  deiis  ex  machind,  as  the  ancients 
say,  appeared  on  the  scene,  saw  no  resource  but  to  bear 
the  yoke  and  do  his  bidding. 

He  had  one  principal  mode  of  strengthening  his  hold 
upon  me;  which  stood  the  higher  in  his  favour,  as  besides 
effecting  that  object  and  rendering  me  serviceable,  it 
amused  him  with  the  spectacle  of  my  alarms.  This  con- 
sisted in  the  employing  me  in  his  treasonable  designs:  as 
by  sending  me  with  letters  and  messages  to  Sam's  Coffee- 
house, or  to  the  Dog  in  Drury  Lane,  or  to  more  private 
l^laces  where  the  Jacobites  congregated  ;  by  making  me  a 
go-between  to  arrange  meetings  with  those  of  his  kidney 
who  dared  not  stir  abroad  in  daylight,  and  came  and  went 
between  London  and  the  coast  of  France  under  cover  of 
night;  or  lastly,  by  using  me  to  drop  treasonable  papers 
in  the  streets,  or  fetch  the  same  from  the  secret  press,  in 
a  court  off  St.  James's,  where  they  were  printed. 

He  took  especial  delight  in  imposing  this  last  task 
upon  me,  and  in  depicting,  when  I  returned  fresh  from 
performing  it,  the  penalties  to  which  I  had  rendered  my- 
self liable.  It  may  occur  to  some  that  when  T  passed 
through  the  streets  with  such  papers  in  my  hands  I  had 
an  easy  way  out  of  my  troubles;  and  could  at  any  moment 
by  conveying  the  letters  to  the  Secretary's  office  procure 
the  tyrant's  arrest,  and  my  own  freedom.  But  besides  the 
fact  that  his  frequent  change  of  lodging,  his  excellent 


132  SHREWSBURY 

information,  and  the  legion  of  spies  who  served  him, 
rendered  it  doubtful  whether  with  the  best  will  in  the 
world  the  messengers  would  find  him  where  I  had  left 
him,  he  frequently  boasted — and  the  boast,  if  unfounded, 
added  to  my  distrust  of  all  with  whom  I  came  into  con- 
tact— that  the  very  tijjsters  and  officers  were  in  his  pay, 
and  that  Cutts  himself  dared  not  arrest  him  !  Besides, 
I  more  than  suspected  that  often  the  letters  he  gave  me 
were  blank,  and  the  errands  harmless  :  and  that  the  one 
and  the  other  were  feigned  only  for  the  purpose  of  trying 
me,  or  out  of  pure  cruelty — to  the  end  that  when  I  re- 
turned he  might  describe  with  gusto  the  process  of  hang- 
ing, drawing,  and  quartering,  and  gloat  over  the  horror 
with  which  I  listened  to  his  relation;  a  practice  which  he 
carried  to  such  an  extent  as  more  than  once  to  reduce  me 
to  tears  of  rage  and  anguish. 

Such  was  my  life  at  home,  where  if  my  tyrant  was  not 
always  at  my  elbow  I  was  every  hour  obnoxious  to  his 
appearance;  for  early  in  our  connection  he  forbade  me  to 
lock  my  door.  Abroad  I  was  scarcely  more  easy,  seeing 
that,  besides  an  impression  I  had  that  wherever  I  went  I 
was  dogged,  there  was  scarcely  an  item  of  news  which  it 
fell  to  my  lot  to  record  that  did  not  throw  me  into  a  panic. 
One  day  it  would  be  Mr.  Bear  arrested  on  a  charge  of 
high  treason,  and  in  possession  of  I  knew  not  what  com- 
promising letters:  another,  the  suicide  in  the  Temple  of 
a  gentleman  to  whom  I  myself  had  a  week  earlier  taken  a 
letter,  and  who  had  in  my  presence  let  fall  expressions 
which  led  me  to  think  him  in  the  same  evil  case  with  me. 
Another  day  it  would  be  an  announcement  that  the  Gov- 
ernment had  discovered  a  new  Conspiracy;  or  that  letters 
going  for  France  had  been  seized  in  Eomney  Marshes; 
or  that  the  Lancashire  witnesses  were  speaking  more  can- 
didly; or  that  Dr.  Oates  had  been  taken  up  and  held  to 
bail  for  a  misdemeanour.  All  these  and  many  other 
rumours  punished  me  in  turn  ;  and  filling  my  mind  with 


SHREWSBURY  123 

the  keenest  apprehensions,  must  in  a  short  time  have  ren- 
dered my  life  intolerable. 

As  it  was,  Mr.  Brome,  Avithin  a  month,  saw  so  great  a 
change  in  me  that  he  would  have  me  take  a  holiday; 
advising  me  to  go  afield  either  to  my  relations,  or  to  some 
village  on  the  Lea,  to  which  neighbourhood  Mr.  Izaak 
Walton's  book  had  given  a  reputation  exceeding  its 
deserts;  He  reinforced  the  advice  with  a  gift  of  two 
guineas,  that  I  might  spend  the  month  royally;  then  in  a 
great  hurry  added  an  injunction  that  I  should  not  waste 
the  money.  But  I  did  worse;  for  I  had  the  simple  folly 
to  tell  the  whole  by  way  of  protest  and  bitter  complaint 
to  my  other  master;  who  first  with  a  grin  took  from  me 
the  two  guineas,  and  then  made  himself  merry  over  the 
increased  time  I  could  now  place  at  his  disposal. 

"And  it  is  timely,  Dick,  it  is  timely,"  he  said  with 
ugly  pleasantry.  "For,  the  good  cause,  the  cause  you 
love  so  dearly,  Dick,  is  prospering.  Another  month  and 
you  and  I  know  what  will  happen.  Ila  !  ha  !  we  know. 
In  the  meantime,  work  while  it  is  day,  Dick.  Put  your 
hand  to  the  plough  and  look  not  back.  If  all  were  as  for- 
ward as  you,  our  necks  would  be  in  little  peril,  and  we 
might  see  a  rope  without  thinking  of  a  cart." 

"Curse  you  !"  I  cried,  almost  beside  myself  between 
disappointment,  and  the  rage  into  which  his  fiendish 
teasing  threw  me.  "  Cannot  you  kee^i  your  tongue  olf 
that?     Is  it  not  enough  that  you " 

"  Have  taught  me  to  limp  !  "  quoth  he  winking  hide- 
ously. "  Here's  to  Louis,  James,  Mary,  and  the  Prince 
— L.  I.  M.  P.,  my  lad  !  Oh,  we  can  talk  the  deealect. 
We  have  had  good  teachers." 

I  could  have  burst  into  tears.  "Some  day  you'll  be 
caught  !  "  I  cried. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said  with  a  grin.     "  And  what  then  ?  " 

"You'll  be  hanged!  Hanged!"  I  cried  furiously. 
"  And  God  grant  I  may  be  there  to  see." 


124  SHREWSBURY 

"You  will  that,"  lie  answered  with  composure. 
"  Make  your  mind  easy,  my  man,  for,  trust  me,  if  I  am 
in  the  first  cart,  you'll  be  in  the  second.  That  is  my 
security,  friend  Dick.  If  I  go,  you  go.  Who  carried  to 
Mr.  Warmaky's  chambers  the  letters  from  France,  I  would 
like  to  know  ?  And  who But  the  cause  !  "  he  con- 
tinued, breaking  off,  "the  cause  !  To  business,  and  no 
more  havers.  Here's  work  for  you.  You  shall  go,  do  you 
hear  me,  Richard,  to  Covent  Garden  to  the  Piazza  there,  in 
half  an  hour's  time.  It  will  be  full  dark  then.  You  will 
see  there  a  fine  gentleman  walking  up  and  down,  taking 
his  tobacco,  with  a  white  handkerchief  hanging  from  his 
pocket.  You  will  give  him  that  note,  and  say  '  Roberts 
and  Gruiney  are  good  men  ' — d'ye  take  it  ?  '  Roberts  and 
Guiney  are  good  men,'  say  that,  and  no  more,  and  come 
back  to  me." 

I  answered  at  first,  being  in  a  rage,  and  not  liking  this 
errand  better  than  others  I  had  done  for  him,  that  I  would 
not — I  would  not,  though  he  killed  me.  But  he  had  a 
way  with  him  that  I  could  not  long  resist ;  and  he  pres- 
ently cowed  me,  and  sent  me  off. 

I  had  so  far  fallen  into  his  sneaking  habits  that  though 
it  was  dark  night  when  I  started,  I  went  the  farthest  way 
round  by  Holborn,  and  the  new  fashionable  quarter,  Soho; 
and  passing  through  King's  Square  itself,  and  before  the 
late  Duke  of  Monmouth's  house — the  sight  of  which  did 
not  lessen  my  distaste  for  my  errand — I  entered  Covent 
Garden  by  James  Street,  which  comes  into  the  square 
between  the  two  Piazzas.  At  the  corner,  I  had  to  turn 
into  the  roadway  to  avoid  a  party  of  roisterers  who  had 
just  issued  from  the  Nag's  Head  coffee-house  and  were 
roaring  for  a  coach ;  and  being  in  the  kennel,  and  observ- 
ing under  the  Piazza  and  before  the  taverns  more  lights 
and  link-boys  than  I  liked,  I  continued  along  the  gutter, 
dirty  as  it  was  (and  always  is  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
market),  until  I  was  half-way  across  the  square,  where  I 


SHREWSBURY  125 

could  turn  and  reconnoitre  at  my  leisure.  Here  for  a 
moment,  running  my  eye  along  the  Piazza,  which  had  its 
usual  fringe  of  flower  girls  and  mumpers,  swearing  porters 
and  hackney  coaches,  I  thought  my  man  with  the  white 
handkerchief  had  not  come  ;  bnt  shifting  my  gaze  to  the 
Little  Piazza,  which  was  darker  and  less  frequented,  I 
presently  espied  him  walking  to  and  fro  under  cover, 
with  a'  cane  in  his  hand  and  the  air  of  a  gentleman  who 
had  supped  and  was  looking  out  for  a  pretty  girl.  lie 
was  a  tall,  stout  man,  wearing  a  large  black  peruke  and  a 
lace  cravat  and  ruffles;  and  he  carried  a  steel-hilted  sword, 
and  had  somehow  the  bearing  of  one  who  had  seen  service 
abroad. 

Satisfied  that  he  was  the  person  I  wanted,  I  went  to 
him  ;  but  stepping  up  to  him  a  little  hastily,  I  gave  him 
a  start,  I  suppose,  for  he  backed  from  me  and  laid  his 
hand  on  his  hilt,  rapping  out  an  oath.  However,  a  clearer 
view  reassured  him,  and  he  cocked  his  hat,  and  swore  at 
me  again  but  in  a  different  tone.  "Sir,"  said  he  very 
rudely,  "another  time  give  a  gentleman  a  wider  berth, 
unless  you  want  his  cane  about  your  shoulders  !  " 

For  answer  I  merely  pulled  out  the  note  I  had  and  held 
it  towards  him,  being  accustomed  to  such  errands  and 
anxious  only  to  do  this  one,  and  begone  ;  the  more  as 
under  the  Great  Piazza  a  number  of  persons  were  loiter- 
ing, and  among  them  link-boys  and  chairmen  and  the 
like  who  notice  everything. 

However  he  made  no  movement  to  take  the  letter,  but 
only  said,  "  For  me  ?  " 

"Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  From  whom  ?  "  said  he,  roughly. 

"  You  will  learn  that  inside,"  I  said.  "  I  was  bidden 
only  to  say  that  Roberts  and  Guiney  are  good  men." 

"Ha!"  he  exclaimed,  "why  did  you  not  say  that 
before?  "  and  at  that  took  the  letter.  On  which,  having 
done  my  part  and  not  liking  the  neighbourhood,  I  was  for 


136  SHREWSBURY 

going,  and  had  actually  made  a  half  turn,  when  a  man 
slighter  than  the  first  and  taller,  came  out  of  the  shadow 
behind  him,  and  standing  by  his  side,  touched  his  hat  to 
me.     I  stopped. 

"  Grood  evening,  my  lord,"  he  said,  addressing  me  with 
ceremony,  and  a  sort  of  dignity.  "  I  little  thought  to  see 
you  here  on  this  business.  It  is  the  best  news  I  have  had 
myself  or  have  had  to  give  to  others  this  many  a  day.  It 
shall  be  well  represented,  and  the  risk  you  run.  And 
whatever  be  thought  on  this  side,  believe  me,  at  St.  Ger- 
main's  " 


li 


Hush  !  "  cried  the  first  man,  interrupting  him  at 
that,  and  rather  sharj^ly.  I  think  he  had  beeu  too  much 
surprised  to  speak  before.  "  You  are  too  hasty,  sir,"  he 
continued.  "  There  must  be  a  mistake  here.  The  gen- 
tleman to  whom  you  are  speaking " 

"  There  is  no  mistake.  This  gentleman  and  I  are  well 
acquainted,"  the  other  responded  coolly,  and  in  the  tone 
of  a  man  who  knows  what  he  is  doing.  And  then  to  me, 
and  with  a  different  air,  "  My  lord,  you  may  not  wish  to 
say  your  name  aloud  ;  that  I  can  understand,  and  this  is 
no  very  safe  place  for  either  of  us.  But  if  we  could  meet 
somewhere,  say  at " 

"Hush,  sir,"  the  man  with  the  handkerchief  cried, 
and  this  time  almost  angrily.  "  There  is  a  mistake  here, 
and  in  a  moment  you  will  say  too  much,  if  yon  have  not 
said  it  already.  This  gentleman — if  he  is  a  gentleman — 
brings  a  letter  from  R.  F.,  and  is  no  more  of  a  lord,  I'll 
be  sworn,  than  I  am  !  " 

"FromE.  F.?  " 

"Yes;  and   therefore  if   he   is  the  person  you  think 

him But    come,   sir,"    he   continued,    eyeing   me 

angrily,  "  what  is  your  name  ?     End  this." 

I  did  not  wish  to  tell  him,  yet  liked  less  to  refuse.  So 
I  lied,  and  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  said,  "  Charles  Tay- 
lor," that  being  the  name  of  a  man  who  lived  below  me. 


SHREWSBURY  137 

The  taller  man  struck  one  hand  into  the  other. 
"There  !  Charles  !  "  he  cried,  and  looked  at  me  smil- 
ing.    "  I  have  an  eye  for  faces,  and  if  you  are  not " 

"Nay,  sir,  I  pray,  be  quiet,"  the  man  with  the  white 
handkerchief  remonstrated.     ' '  Or  if  you  are  so   certain 

"  and  then  he  looked  hard  at  me  and  frowned  as  if  he 

began  to  feel  a  doubt.  "  Step  this  way  and  tell  me  what 
you  tliink.  This  gentleman  will  doubtless  excuse  us,  and 
wait  a  moment,  whether  he  be  whom  you  think  him  or  not. " 

I  was  as  uneasy  and  as  unwilling  to  stay  as  could  be  ; 
but  the  man's  tone  was  resolute,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  not 
a  man  to  cross  ;  so  with  an  ill  grace  I  consented,  and  the 
two  drawing  aside  together  into  the  deeper  shadow  under 
the  Piazza,  began  to  confer.  This  left  me  to  kick  my 
heels  impatiently,  and  watch  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye 
the  loiterers  under  the  other  Piazza,  to  learn  if  any  ob- 
served us.  Fortunately  they  were  taken  up  with  a  quarrel 
which  had  just  broken  out  between  two  hackney  coach- 
men, and  though  a  man  came  near  me,  bringing  a  woman, 
he  had  no  eyes  for  me,  and,  calling  a  sedan-chair,  went 
away  again  almost  immediately. 

I  was  so  engrossed  with  watching  on  that  side  and  tak- 
ing everyone  who  looked  towards  me  for  an  informer, 
that  it  was  with  a  kind  of  shock  that  I  found  my  two 
friends  had  grown  in  the  course  of  their  conference  to 
three  ;  nor  had  I  more  than  discovered  this  before  the  new 
comer  left  the  other  two  and  sauntered  up  to  me.  "  Oh, 
ah,"    he   said   carelessly,    "and   who   do   you   say   that 

you "  and  there  he  stopped,  staring  in  my  face.     And 

then,  "  By  heavens,  it  is  !  "  he  cried. 

By  this  time  I  was  something  astonished,  and  more 
amazed  ;  and  answered  with  spirit — though  he  was  a  hard- 
bitten man,  with  the  look  of  a  soldier  or  gamester,  to 
whom  ordinarily  I  should  have  given  the  wall — that  I  was 
merely  a  messenger,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  matter  on 
which  I  was  there,  nor  for  whom  they  took  me. 


138  SHREWSBURY 

His  face,  which  for  a  second  or  more  had  blazed  with 
excitement,  fell  suddenly;  and  when  I  had  done  speaking, 
he  laughed. 

*'  Don't  you  ?  "  he  said. 

"  No,"  said  I.     "  Not  a  groat  !  " 

"So  it  seems,"  he  said  again,  as  if  that  settled  the 
matter.     "  Well,  then  what  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Charles  Taylor,"  I  answered. 

"And  you  come  from  that  old  rogue  Ferg — E.  F.,  I 
mean  ? ' ' 

"Yes." 

"  Well  then  you  can  go  back  to  him,"  he  said,  dismis- 
sing me  with  a  nod.  "  Or  wait.  Did  you  know  that 
gentleman,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  Which  ?"  said  I. 

"The  tall  one." 

"  Not  from  Adam,"  I  said. 

"  Good  !  Then  there  is  no  need  you  should  know 
him,"  he  answered  coolly.  "  So,  go.  And  do  you  tell 
that  old  fox  to  lie  close.  He  was  never  in  anything  yet 
but  he  spoiled  it.  Tell  him  to  lie  close,  and  keep  his 
bragging  tongue  quiet  if  he  can.  And  now  be  off.  I 
will  explain  to  the  gentlemen." 

I  needed  no  second  bidding,  but  before  the  words  were 
well  out  of  his  mouth,  had  crossed  the  square,  to  the  mar- 
ket side,  where  there  were  no  lights  ;  thence  skirting  the 
garden  of  Bedford  House,  I  made  my  way  into  the  Strand, 
and  home  by  a  pretty  direct  route.  The  farther  I  left 
the  men  behind  me,  however,  the  higher  rose  my  curios- 
ity ;  so  that  by  the  time  I  reached  Bride  Lane,  and  had 
climbed  the  stairs  to  my  garret,  I  was  agape  to  know  more, 
and  for  once  in  my  life,  was  glad  to  find  the  old  plotter 
in  my  room.  Nor  was  it  without  satisfaction,  that  to  his 
eager  question,  "  You  gave  the  note  to  the  gentleman?  " 
I  answered  shortly  that  I  had  given  it  to  three. 

"To  three?"  he  exclaimed,  starting  w])  in  a  sudden 


SHREWSBURY  129 

fury.    "  You  d d  cur,  if  you  have  betrayed  me!   What 

do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Only  tluit  I  did  what  you  told  me,"  I  answered 
sullenly  ;  at  wliich  he  sat  down  again.  "  I  gave  it  to  the 
gentleman  ;  but  he  had  two  with  him " 

"  The  more  to  hang  him,"  he  sneered,  quickly  recover- 
ing himself.     "  And  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  V-ery  little.  Nothing  that  I  remember.  But  the  two 
with  him " 

"Ay?" 

"  One  of  them  said,  '  Tell  the  old  fox  ' — or  the  rogue, 
for  he  called  you  both — '  to  lie  close  ! '  And  he  added," 
I  continued,  spite  giving  me  courage,  "that  you  had 
hitherto  spoiled  everything  you  had  been  in,  Mr.  Fergu- 
son." 

At  that  I  do  not  think  that  I  ever  saw  a  man  in  such  a 
rage.  Fortunately  he  did  not  turn  it  on  me;  but  for  two 
or  three  minutes  he  cursed  and  swore,  bit  things  and 
foamed  at  the  mouth,  tramj^led  on  his  wig  and  raged  up 
and  down,  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  madman ;  while  the 
imprecations  he  uttered  against  his  enemies  were  so  hor- 
rible I  feared  to  stay  w-ith  him.  At  length  it  seemed  to 
occur  to  him  that  the  man  who  could  send  such  a  message 
to  him,  Ferguson,  the  great  Ferguson,  the  Ferguson  with 
a  thousand  guineas  on  his  head,  must  be  a  very  great  man 
indeed  :  which  while  it  consoled  him  in  some  measure, 
excited  his  curiosity  in  another  and  inordinate  degree. 
He  hastened  to  put  to  me  a  number  of  questions,  as,  what 
were  the  two  like  ?  And  did  the  one  pay  the  other  re- 
spect? And  how  were  they  dressed  ?  And  had  either  a 
ribbon  or  a  star  ?  And  though  in  answer  I  could  tell  him 
no  more  than  that  the  youngest  was  extremely  tall  and 
slight,  under  thirty,  and  of  an  easy  carriage  and  bearing, 
and  in  appearance  the  leader,  it  was  enough  for  him  ;  he 
presently  cried  out  that  he  had  it,  and  slapped  his  thigh. 
"Gad!  It  is  Jamie  Churchill!"  he  cried.  "It's 
9 


130  SHREWSBURY 

Berwick,  stop  my  vitiils  !  He  had  a  villainous  French 
accent,  had  he  not?  " 

"  Something  of  the  kind,"  I  answered.  Adding  with 
as  much  of  a  sneer  as  I  dared,  "If  it  was  not  a  Scotch 
one,  sir." 

He  took  the  gibe  and  scowled  at  me — he  spoke  always 
like  a  Sawney,  and  could  never  pass  for  English;  but  in 
his  pleasure  at  the  discovery  he  had  made  he  let  the  word 
pass.  "  See,  man!  "  he  said,  "  there  are  fine  times  com- 
ing !  It  is  like  Monmouth's  day  over  again.  I'll  warrant 
Hunt's,  down  in  the  Marshes,  is  like  a  penny  ferry  with 
their  coming  over.  The  fat  is  fairly  in  the  fire  now,  and 
if  we  do  not  singe  little  Hooknose's  wig  for  him,  I'll 
hang  for  it  !  He  is  a  better  man  than  his  father,  is 
Jamie;  ay,  the  very  same  figure  of  a  man  that  his  cold- 
blooded, grease-you  r-boots,  and  sell-you-for-a-groat  uncle, 
John  Churchill,  was  at  his  age  !  So  Jamie  is  over  ! 
Well,  well :  and  if  we  knew  precisely  where  he  was  and 
where  he  lies  nights — there  are  two  ways  about  it  ! 
Ye-es  !  Ye-es  !  "  And  the  old  rogue,  falling  first  into  a 
drawl  and  then  into  silence,  looked  at  me  slyly,  and, 
unless  I  was  mistaken,  began  to  ruminate  on  a  new  trea- 
son ;  rubbing  now  one  calf  and  now  the  other,  and  now 
dressing  his  ragged  wig  with  his  fingers,  as  he  continued 
to  smile  at  his  wicked  thoughts  ;  so  that,  as  he  sat  there, 
one  les:  over  the  other  knee,  he  was  the  veriest  bald- 
headed  Judas  to  be  conceived.  In  the  meantime  I 
watched  him  and  hated  him,  and,  I  thought,  read  him. 

Whatever  the  scheme  in  his  mind,  however,  and 
whether  he  was,  as  I  expected,  as  ready  to  sell  the  Duke 
of  Berwick  as  to  plot  with  him,  he  said  no  more  to  me  on 
the  subject ;  but  presently  went  to  his  own  room.  Thus 
left,  I  thought  it  high  time  to  consider  where  I  stood, 
being  all  of  a  tremble  and  twitter  with  what  I  had  heard 
and  seen;  and  I  tossed  through  the  night,  fearfully  sound- 
ing the  depths  in  which  I  found  myself,  and  striving  to 


SHREWSBURY  131 

gain  strength  to  battle  witli  the  stream  that  day  by  clay 
was  forcing  me  farther  and  farther  from  the  land.  I  was 
no  boy  or  fool,  unaware  of  the  danger  of  being  mixed  up 
with  great  men  and  great  names  ;  rather  the  ten  years 
during  which  I  had  followed  public  affairs  had  presented 
me  with  only  too  many  examples  of  the  iron  pot  and  clay 
pitcher.  When,  therefore,  I  slept  at  last,  late  in  the 
evening,  it  Avas  to  dream  of  the  sledge  and  Tyburn  road 
and  the  Ordinary — who  bore  in  my  dream  a  marvellous 
likeness  to  Mr.  Brome — and  a  wall  of  faces  that  lined  the 
way  and  never  ceased  from  St.  Giles's  Pound  to  the  Edge- 
ware  Road. 

Such  a  dream,  taken  with  my  night's  thoughts,  left  me 
eager  to  put  in  execution  a  plan  I  had  more  than  once 
considered;  which  was  to  give  up  all,  to  fly  from  London, 
and  hiding  myself  in  some  quiet  place  under  another 
name,  to  live  as  I  best  might  until  Ferguson's  capture,  or 
a  change  in  the  state  of  affairs  freed  me  from  danger. 
At  a  distance  from  him  I  might  even  gain  courage  to 
inform  against  him  ;  but  this  I  left  for  future  decision, 
the  main  thing  now  being  to  pack  my  clothes,  secure 
about  me  the  money  I  had  saved,  which  amounted  to 
thirty  guineas,  and  escape  from  the  town  on  foot  or  in  a 
stage-wagon  without  any  of  his  myrmidons  being  the 
wiser. 

To  adopt  this  course  was  to  lose  Mr.  Brome's  friendship 
and  the  livelihood  which  his  employment  provided  ;  but 
such  was  the  fear  I  had  conceived  of  Ferguson's  schemes 
and  the  perils  they  involved  that  I  scarcely  hesitated. 
Before  noon,  an  hour  which  I  thought  least  open  to  sus- 
picion, I  had  engaged  a  porter  and  bidden  him  wait 
below,  had  made  all  my  other  arrangements,  and  in  five 
minutes  I  should  have  been  safe  in  the  streets  with  my 
face  set  towards  Kensington — when,  at  the  last  moment, 
there  came  a  tap  at  my  door  and  a  voice  asked  if  I 
was  in. 


132  SHREWSBURY 

It  was  not  an  hour  at  which  Ferguson  liad  ever  troubled 
me,  and  trusting  to  this  I  had  not  been  careful  to  hide 
the  signs  of  removal  which  my  room  presented.  For  a 
moment  I  hung  over  my  trnnk,  panic-stricken;  then  the 
door  opened,  and  admitted  the  girl  who  had  intervened 
once  before — I  mean  at  the  door  of  the  Secretary's  office — 
and  whom  I  had  since  noticed,  but  not  often,  going  in  at 
the  opposite  rooms. 

She  curtseyed  demurely,  standing  in  the  doorway,  and 
said  that  Mr.  Smith — which  was  one  of  the  names  by 
which  Ferguson  went — had  sent  her  to  me  with  a  message. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  forcing  myself  to  speak. 

"Would  you  please  to  wait  on  him  this  evening  at 
eight,"  she  answered.     "  He  wishes  to  speak  with  you." 

"  Yes,"  I  said  again,  helplessly  assenting;  and  there  was 
an  end  of  my  fine  evasion.  I  took  it  for  a  warning,  and 
my  clothes  from  my  mail;  and  going  down  paid  the  por- 
ter a  groat,  and  received  in  return  a  dozeu  porter's  oaths. 
And  so  dismissed  him  and  my  plan  together. 


CHAPTER  XV 

It  must  be  confessed  that  after  that  it  was  with  a  sore 
shrinking  and  foreboding  of  punishment  I  prepared  to 
obey  Mr.  Ferguson's  summons,  and  at  the  hour  he  had 
fixed  knocked  at  his  door.  Hitherto  he  had  always  come 
to  me ;  and  even  so  and  on  my  own  ground  I  had  suffered 
enough  at  his  hands.  What  I  had  to  expect,  therefore, 
when  entirely  in  his  power  I  failed  to  guess,  but  on  that 
account  felt  only  the  greater  apprehension;  so  that  it  was 
with  relief  I  recognised,  firstly,  as  soon  as  I  crossed  the 
threshold,  a  peculiar  neatness  and  cleanliness  in  the 
rooms,  as  if  Ferguson  at  home  were  something  different 


SHREWSBURY  133 

from  Ferguson  abroad  ;  and  secondly,  that  he  was  not 
alone,  but  entertained  a  visitor. 

Neither  of  these  things,  to  be  sure,  altered  his  bearing 
towards  me,  or  took  from  the  brutality  with  which  it  was 
his  humour  to  address  me  ;  but  as  his  opening  words 
announced  that  the  visitor's  business  lay  with  me,  they 
relieved  me  from  my  worst  a2:)prehension — namely,  that  I 
was  to  be  called  to  account  for  the  steps  I  had  taken  to 
escape;  at  the  same  time  that  they  amused  me  with  the 
hope  of  better  treatment,  since  no  man  could  deal  with 
me  worse  than  he  had. 

"  This  is  your  man  !  "  the  plotter  cried,  lying  back  in 
his  chair  and  pointing  to  me  with  the  pipe  he  was  smok- 
ing. "  Never  was  such  a  brave  conspirator  !  Name  a 
rope  and  he  will  sweat  !  For  my  part,  I  wish  you  joy  of 
him.  Here,  you,  sirrah,"  he  continued,  addressing  me, 
"this  gentleman  wishes  to  sjoeak  to  you,  and,  mind  3'ou, 
you  will  do  what  he  tells  you,  or " 

But  at  that  the  gentleman  cut  him  short  with  a  depre- 
cating gesture.  "Softly,  Mr.  Ferguson,  softly!"  he 
said,  and  rose  and  bowed  to  me.  Then  I  saw  that  he 
was  the  last  comer  of  the  three  I  had  met  in  Covent 
Garden;  and  the  one  who  had  dismissed  me.  "  You  go 
too  fast,"  he  went  on,  smiling,  "  and  give  our  friend  here 
a  wrong  impression  of  me.     Mr.  Taylor,  I " 

But  it  was  Ferguson's  turn  to  take  him  up,  which  he 
did  with  a  boisterous  laugh.  "  IIo  !  Taylor  !  Taylor  !  " 
he  cried  in  derision.  "  No  more  Taylor  than  I  am  haber- 
dasher !     The  man's  name " 

"  Is  whatever  he  pleases,"  the  stranger  struck  in,  with 
another  bow.  "  I  neither  ask  it  nor  seek  to  know  it. 
Such  things  between  gentlemen  and  in  these  times  are 
neither  here  nor  there.  It  is  enough  and  perhaps  too 
much  that  I  came  to  ask  you  to  do  me  a  favour  and  a 
service,  Mr.  Taylor,  both  of  which  are  in  your  power." 

He  spoke  with  a  politeness  which  went  far  to  win  me. 


134  SHREWSBURY 

and  the  farther  for  the  contrast  it  afforded  to  Ferguson's 
violence.  With  his  apjiearance  I  was  not  so  greatly  taken; 
finding  in  it,  though  he  was  dressed  well  enough,  clearer 
signs  of  recklessness  than  of  discretion,  and  plainer  evi- 
dences of  hard  living  than  of  charity  or  study.  But  per- 
haps the  prayer  of  such  a  man,  when  he  stoops  to  pray,  is 
the  more  powerful.  At  any  rate  I  was  already  half  gained, 
when  I  answered  ;  asking  him  timidly  what  I  could  do 
for  him. 

"  Pay  a  call  with  me,"  said  he  lightly.  "  Neither  more 
than  that,  nor  less." 

I  asked  him  on  whom  we  were  to  call. 

"On  a  lady,"  he  answered,  "who  lives  at  the  other 
end  of  the  town." 

"  But  can  I  be  of  any  service?  "  I  said,  feebly  strug- 
gling against  the  inevitable. 

"  You  can,"  he  answered.     "  Of  great  service." 

"  Devil  a  bit  !  "  said  Ferguson  testily,  and  stared  deri- 
sion at  me  out  of  a  cloud  of  smoke.  It  occurred  to  me 
then  that  he  was  not  quite  sober,  and  further  that  he  was 
no  more  in  the  secret  of  the  service  than  I  was.  "  Devil 
a  bit  !  "  said  he  again,  and  more  offensively. 

"You  will  let  me  Judge  of  that,"  said  the  gentleman, 
and  he  turned  to  the  table.  "  Will  you  mind  changing 
the  clothes  you  wear  for  these?"  he  said  to  mo  with  a 
pleasant  air.  On  which  I  saw  that  he  had  on  the  table  by 
his  hand  a  suit  of  fine  silk  velvet  clothes,  and  surmounted 
by  a  grand  dress  peruque,  with  a  laced  steinkirk  and 
ruffles  to  match.  "Pardon  the  impertinence,"  he  con- 
tinued, shrugging  his  shoulders  as  if  the  matter  were  a 
very  slight  one,  while  I  stared  iu  amazement  at  this  new 
turn.  "It  is  only  that  I  think  you  will  aid  me  the  bet- 
ter in  these.     And  after  all,  what  is  a  change  of  clothes  ?  " 

Naturally  I  looked  at  the  things  in  wonder.  I  had 
never  worn  clothes  of  the  kind.  "  Do  you  want  me  to 
put  them  on  ?  "  I  said. 


SHREWSBURY  135 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  smiling.  "Will  you  do  it  on 
the  faith  that  it  will  serve  me,  and  trust  to  me  to  explain 
later?" 

"  If  there  is  no  danger  in — in  the  business,"  I  said 
reluctantly,  "I  suppose  I  must."  As  a  fact,  whatever 
he  asked  me,  with  Ferguson  beside  him,  I  should  have  to 
do,  so  great  was  my  fear  of  that  man. 

"  There  is  no  danger,"  he  replied.  "  I  will  answer  for 
it.     I  shall  accompany  you  and  return  with  you." 

On  that,  and  though  I  did  not  comprehend  in  the  least 
degree  what  was  required  of  me,  I  consented,  and  took 
the  clothes  at  the  stranger's  bidding  into  the  next  room, 
where  I  put  off  mine  and  put  these  on  ;  and  presently, 
seeing  myself  in  a  little  square  of  glass  that  hung  against 
the  wall,  scarcely  knew  myself  in  a  grand  suit  of  blue  vel- 
vet slashed  and  laced  with  pearl-colour,  a  dress  peruque 
and  lace  ruffles  and  cravat.  Being  unable  to  tie  the 
cravat,  I  went  back  into  the  room  with  it  in  my  hand  ; 
where  I  found  not  only  the  two  I  had  left  but  the  girl 
who  had  summoned  me  that  morning.  The  two  men 
greeted  the  change  in  me  with  oaths  of  surprise  ;  the 
girl,  who  stood  in  the  background,  with  an  open-eyed 
stare  ;  but  for  a  moment  and  until  the  stranger  had  tied 
the  cravat  for  me,  nothing  was  said  that  I  understood. 
Then  ]Vtr.  Ferguson  getting  up  and  walking  round  me 
with  a  candle,  gazing  at  me  from  top  to  toe,  the  other 
asked  him  in  a  voice  of  some  amusement  if  he  knew  now 
who  I  was. 

"  A  daw  in  jay's  feathers  !  "  said  he,  scornfully. 

"  And  you  do  not  know  him  ?  " 

"  Not  I — except  for  the  silly  fool  he  is  !  " 

"  Then  you  do  not  know — well,  someone  you  ought  to 
know  ! ' '  the  stranger  answered  dryly.  ' '  You  are  get- 
ting old,  Mr.  Ferguson." 

My  master  cursed  his  impudence. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  do  not  keep  abreast  of  the  rising 


136  SHREWSBURY 

generation,"  the  other  continned,  coolly  eyeing  the  rage 
his  words  excited.  "And  for  yonr  Shaftesburys,  and 
Monmouths,  and  Ludlows,  and  the  old  gang,  they  don't 
count  for  much  now.  You  must  look  about  you,  Mr. 
Ferguson;  you  must  look  about  you  and  open  your  eyes, 
and  learn  new  tricks,  or  before  you  know  it  you  will  find 
yourself  on  the  shelf." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate  tlie  fury  into  which 
this  threw  my  master;  he  raved,  stamped,  and  swore,  and 
finally,  having  recourse  to  his  old  trick,  tore  off  his  wig, 
flung  it  on  the  ground,  and  stamped  on  it.  "There  !  " 
he  cried,  with  horrible  imprecations,  the  more  horrible 
for  the  bald  ugliness  of  the  man,  "and  that  is  what  I 
will  do  to  you — by-and-by,  Mr.  Smith.  On  the  shelf, 
am  I  ?  And  need  new  tricks  ?  Hark  you,  sir,  I  am  not 
so  much  on  the  shelf  that  I  cannot  spoil  your  game,  what- 
ever it  is.     And  CI —  d —  me  but  I  will  !  " 

Mr.  Smith,  listening,  cool  and  dark-faced,  shrugged  his 
shoulders  ;  but  for  all  his  seeming  indifference,  kept  a 
wary  eye  on  the  plotter.  "  Tut — tut,  Mr.  Ferguson,  you 
are  angry  with  me,"  he  said.  "  And  say  things  you  do 
not  mean.     Besides,  you  don't  know " 

"  Know  ?  "  the  other  shrieked. 

"  Just  so,  know  what  my  game  is." 

"  I  know  this  !  "  Ferguson  retorted,  di'opping  his  voice 
on  a  sudden  to  a  baleful  whisper,  "Who  is  here,  and 
where  he  lies,  Mr.  Smith.     And " 

"So  do  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,"  the  other  answered, 
shrugging  his  shoulders  contemptuously;  and  then  to  me, 
"Mr.  Taylor,"  he  continued  with  politeness,  "  I  think 
we  will  be  going.  Light  the  door,  my  dear.  That  is  it. 
I  have  a  coach  below,  and — good-night,  Mr.  Ferguson, 
good-night  to  you.  I'll  tell  Sir  George  I  have  seen  you. 
And  do  you  think  over  my  advice." 

At  that  my  master  broke  out  afresh,  cursing  the  other's 
impudence,  and  frantically  swearing  to  be  even  with  him; 


SHREWSBURY  137 

but  I  lost  what  he  said,  in  a  sudden  consternation  that 
seized  me,  as  I  crossed  the  threshohl  ;  a  kind  of  shiver, 
which  came  over  me  at  the  prospect  of  the  night,  and  the 
dark  coach  ride,  and  the  uncertainty  of  this  new  adventure. 
The  lights  in  the  room,  and  Mr.  Smith's  politeness,  had 
given  me  a  courage  which  the  dark  staircase  dissipated  ; 
and  but  for  the  hold  which  my  new  employer,  perhaps 
unconsciously,  laid  on  my  arm,  I  think  I  should  have  stood 
back  and  refused  to  go.  Under  his  gentle  compulsion, 
however,  I  went  down  and.  took  my  seat  in  the  coach  that 
awaited  us;  and  my  companion  following  me  and  closing 
the  door,  someone  unseen  raised  the  steps,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment we  were  jolting  out  of  Bride  Lane,  and  turned  in 
the  direction  of  the  Strand. 

More  than  this  I  could  not  distinguish  with  all  my  curi- 
osity, and  look  out  as  I  might;  for  Mr.  Smith  muttering 
something  I  did  not  catch,  drew  the  curtain  over  the  win- 
dow on  my  side,  and,  for  the  other,  interposed  himself  so 
continually  and  skilfully  between  it  and  my  eyes,  that 
the  coach  turning  two  or  three  corners,  in  a  few  minutes 
I  was  quite  ignorant  where  we  were,  or  whether  we  still 
held  a  westward  direction.  A  hundred  notions  of  foot- 
pads, abductions,  Mr.  Thynne,  and  the  like  passed 
through  my  mind  while  the  coacii  rumbled  on,  and 
rumbled  on,  and  rumbled  on  endlessly  ;  nor  was  the  fact 
that  we  appeared  to  avoid  the  business  parts  of  the  town, 
and  chose  unlighted  ways,  calculated  to  steady  my  nerves. 
At  length,  and  while  I  still  debated  Avh ether  I  wished  this 
suspense  at  an  end,  or  feared  more  what  was  to  follow, 
the  coach  stopped  with  a  jerk,  which  almost  threw  me 
out  of  my  seat. 

"We  are  there,"  said  my  companion,  who  had  been 
some  time  silent.  "I  must  trouble  you  to  descend,  Mr. 
Taylor.  And  liave  no  fears.  The  matter  in  hand  is  very 
simple.  Only  be  good  enough  to  follow  me  closely,  and 
quickly." 


138  SHREWSBURY 

And  without  releasing  my  arm  he  hurried  me  out  of  the 
coach,  and  through  a  door  in  a  wall.  This  admitted  us 
only  to  a  garden;  and  that  so  dark,  and  so  completely 
obscured  by  high  walls  and  the  branches  of  trees,  which 
showed  faintly  overhead,  feathering  against  the  sky,  that 
but  for  the  guidance  of  his  hand,  I  must  have  stood,  un- 
able to  proceed.  Such  an  overture  was  far  from  abating 
my  fears  ;  nor  had  I  expected  this  sudden  plunge  into  a 
solitude,  which  seemed  the  more  chilling,  as  we  stood  in 
London,  and  had  a  little  while  before  passed  from  the 
hum  of  the  Strand.  I  tried  to  consider  where  we  could 
be,  and  the  possibilities  of  retreat;  but  my  conductor  left 
me  little  room  for  indecision.  Still  holding  my  arm,  he 
led  me  down  a  walk,  and  to  a  door,  which  opened  as  we 
approached.  A  flood  of  light  poured  out  and  fell  on  the 
pale  green  of  the  surrounding  trees  ;  the  next  moment  I 
stood  in  a  small,  bare  lobby  or  ante-room,  and  heard  the 
door  chained  behind  me. 

My  eyes  dazzled  by  a  lamp,  I  saw  no  more  at  first  than 
that  the  person  who  held  it,  and  had  admitted  us,  was  a 
woman.  But  on  her  setting  down  the  lamp,  and  pro- 
ceeding to  look  me  up  and  down  deliberately,  the  while 
Mr.  Smith  stood  by,  as  if  he  had  brought  me  for  this  and 
no  other,  I  took  uneasy  note  of  her.  She  appeared  to  be 
verging  on  forty  but  was  still  handsome  after  a  coarse  and 
full-blown  fashion,  with  lips  over-full  and  cheeks  too  red; 
her  dark  hair  still  kept  its  colour,  and  the  remains  of  a 
great  vivacity  still  lurked  in  her  gloomy  eyes.  Her  dress, 
of  an  untidy  richness  worn  and  tarnished,  and  ill-fastened 
at  the  neck,  was  no  mean  match  for  her  face ;  and  led  me  to 
think  her — and  therein  I  was  right — the  waiting-woman 
of  some  great  lady.  Perhaps  I  should,  if  let  alone,  have 
come  something  nearer  the  truth  than  this,  and  quite 
home;  but  Mr.  Smith  cut  short  my  observations  by  falling 
upon  her  in  a  tone  of  anger,  "  Hang  it,  madam,  if  you  are 
not  satisfied,"  he  cried,  "  I  can  only  tell  you " 


SHRE  WSB  UR  Y  139 

"Who  Scaid  I  was  not  satisfied?"  she  answered,  still 
surveying  me  with  the  utmost  coolness.     "  But -" 

"But  what?" 

"  I  cannot  helj)  thinking What  is  your  name,  sir, 

if  you  please  ?  "     This  to  me. 

"Taylor,"  I  said. 

"Taylor?  Taylor?"  She  repeated  the  name  as  if 
uncertain.     "I  remember  no  Taylor;  and  yet " 

"You  remember?  You  remember?  You  know  very 
well  whom  you  remember  !  "  Mr.  Smith  cried,  impa- 
tiently. "  It  is  the  likeness  you  are  thinking  of  !  Why, 
it  is  as  plain,  woman,  as  the  nose  on  his  face.  It  is  so 
plain  that  if  I  had  brought  him  in  by  the  front  door " 

"  And  kept  his  mouth  shut  !  "     She  interposed. 

"  No  one  would  have  been  the  wiser." 

"  Well,"  she  said,  grudgingly,  and  eyeing  me  with  her 
head  aside,  "  it  is  near  enough." 

"  It  is  the  thing  !  "  he  cried,  with  an  oath. 

"As  a  Chelsea  orange  is  a  China  orange  !"  she  an- 
swered, contemptuously. 

At  that  he  looked  at  her  in  a  sort  of  dark  fury,  pre- 
cisely, so  it  seemed  to  me,  as  Ferguson  had  looked  at  him 
an  hour  before.  "By  heaven,  you  vixen,"  he  cried  in 
the  end,  surprise  and  rage  contending  in  his  tone,  "I 
believe  you  love  him  still  !  " 

Her  back  being  towards  me  I  did  not  see  her  face,  but 
the  venom  in  her  tone  when  she  answered,  made  my  blood 
creep.  "Well,"  she  said,  slowly,  "and  if  I  do?  Much 
good  may  it  do  him  !  " 

Ambiguous  as  were  the  words — but  not  the  tone — the 
man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Then  what  are  we  wait- 
ing for  ?  ' '  he  asked,  irritably. 

"Madam's  pleasure,"  she  answered.  And  I  could 
see  that  she  loved  to  baulk  him.  However,  her  pleasure 
was,  this  time,  short-lived,  for  at  that  moment  a  little  bell 
tinkled  in  a  distant  room,  and  she  took  up  the  lamp. 


140  SHREWSBURY 

"  Come,"  she  said.  "  And  do  yon,  sir,"  she  continued, 
turning  to  me  and  speaking  sharply,  "  hold  up  your  head 
and  look  as  if  you  could  cut  your  own  food.  You  are 
going  to  see  an  old  woman.  Do  you  think  that  she  will 
eat  you  ?  ' ' 

I  let  the  gibe  pass,  and  wondering  of  whom  and  what 
it  was  she  reminded  me,  whenever  she  spoke,  I  followed 
her  up  a  short  dark  flight  of  stairs  to  a  second  ante-room, 
or  closet,  situate,  as  far  as  I  could  judge,  over  the  other. 
It  was  hung  with  dull,  faded  tapestry  and  smelled  close, 
as  if  seldom  used  and  more  seldom  aired.  Setting  down 
the  lamp  on  a  little  side-table  whereon  a  crumpled  domino, 
a  couple  of  masks,  and  an  empty  perfume  bottle  already 
lay,  she  bade  us  in  a  low  voice  wait  for  her  and  be  silent ; 
and  enforcing  the  last  order  by  placing  her  finger  on 
her  lip,  she  glided  quietly  out  through  a  door  so  skilfully 
masked  by  the  tapestry  as  to  seem  one  of  the  walls. 

Left  alone  with  Mr.  Smith,  who  seated  himself  on  the 
table,  I  had  leisure  to  take  note  of  the  closet.  Remark- 
ing that  the  wall  at  one  end  was  partly  hidden  by  a  couple 
of  curtains,  between  which  a  bare  bracket  stood  out  from 
the  wall,  I  concluded  that  the  place  had  been  a  secret 
oratory  and  had  witnessed  many  a  clandestine  mass.  I 
might  have  carried  my  observations  farther  ;  but  they 
were  cut  short  at  this  point  by  the  return  of  the  woman, 
who  nodding,  in  silence,  held  the  door  oj^en  for  us  to 
pass. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  first  to  enter,  and  prepared  for  many  things — 
among  which  the  gloomy  surroundings  of  an  ascetic, 
devoted  to  the  dark  usages  of  the  old  faith,  held  the 
first  place  in  probability — I  halted   in  surprise   on   the 


SHREWSBURY  141 

threshold  of  a  lofty  and  splendid  room  suffused  with  rose- 
tinted  light,  and  furnished  with  a  luxury  to  which  I  had 
been  hitherto  a  stranger.  The  walls,  hung  with  gorgeous 
French  tapestry,  presented  a  succession  of  palaces  and 
hunting  scenes,  interspersed  with  birds  of  strange  and 
tropical  plumage  ;  between  which  and  the  eyes  were  scat- 
tered a  profusion  of  Japanese  screens,  cabinets,  and  tables, 
with  some  of  those  quaint  Dutch  idols,  brought  from  the 
East,  which,  new  to  me,  were  beginning  at  this  time  to 
take  the  public  taste.  Embracing  the  upper  half  of  the 
room,  and  also  a  ruelle,  in  which  stood  a  stately  bed  with 
pillars  of  silver,  a  circle  of  stronger  light,  dispersed  by 
lamps  cunningly  hidden  in  the  ceiling,  fell  on  a  suite  of 
furniture  of  rose  brocade  and  silver;  in  the  great  chair  of 
which,  with  her  feet  on  a  foot-stool  set  upon  the  open 
hearth,  sat  an  elderly  lady,  leaning  on  an  ebony  stick.  A 
monkey  mowed  and  gibbered  on  the  back  of  her  chair; 
and  a  parrot,  vieing  in  brilliance  with  the  broidered 
birds  on  the  wall,  hung  by  its  claws  from  a  ring  above  her 
head. 

Nor  was  the  lady  herself  unworthy  of  the  splendour  of 
her  surroundings.  It  is  true,  her  face  and  jnled-up  hair, 
painted  and  dyed  into  an  extravagant  caricature  of  youth, 
aped  the  graces  of  sixteen,  and  at  the  first  glance  touched 
the  note  of  the  grotesque  rather  than  the  beautiful  ;  but 
it  needed  only  a  second  look  to  convince  me  that  with  all 
that  she  on  whom  I  looked  was  a  great  lady  of  the  world, 
so  still  she  sat,  and  so  proud  and  dark  was  the  gaze  she 
bent  on  me  over  her  clasped  hands. 

At  first,  it  seemed  to  me,  she  gazed  like  one  who,  feel- 
ing a  great  surprise,  has  learned  to  hide  that  and  all  other 
emotions.  But  presently,  "  Come  in,  booby,"  she  cried, 
in  a  voice  petulant  and  cracking  with  age.  "  Does  a 
woman  frighten  you  ?  Come  nearer,  I  say.  Ay,  I  have 
seen  your  double.     But  the  lamp  has  gone  out." 

The  woman  who  had  admitted  me  rustled   forward. 


142 


SHREWSBURY 


II 


It  has  sunk  a  little  perhaps,  madam,"  she  said  in  a 
smooth  voice.     "  But  I " 


^  /I  II  '-  & 


IN   THE    GREAT    CHAIR    SAT    AN    ELDERLY    LADY 
LEANING    ON   AN    EBONY    STICK 


"But  you  are  a  fool,"  the  lady  cried.  "I  meant  the 
lamp  in  the  man,  silly.  Do  you  think  that  anyone  who 
has  ever  seen  him  would  take  that  block  of  wood  for  my 


SHREWSBURY  143 

son  ?     Give  him  a  brain,  and  light  a  fire  in  him,  and 

spark  up  those  oyster  eyes,  and turn  him  round,  turn 

him  round,  woman  !  " 

'•  Turn,"  Smith  muttered,  in  a  fierce  whisper. 

"  Ay,"  the  lady  cried,  as  I  went  to  obey,  "  see  his  back, 
and  he  is  like  enough  !  " 

"And  perhaps,  madam,  strangers " 

"Strangers?  They'd  be  strange,  indeed,  man,  to  be 
taken  in  by  him  !  But  walk  him,  Avalk  him.  Do  you 
hear,  fellow,"  she  continued,  nodding  peevishly  at  me, 
"  hold  up  your  head,  and  cross  the  room  like  a  man  if  you 
are  one.  Do  you  think  the  small-pox  is  in  the  air  that 
you  fear  it  !  Ha  !  That  is  better.  And  what  is  your 
name,  I  wonder,  that  you  have  that  nose  and  mouth,  and 
that  turn  of  the  chin  ?  " 

"  Charles  Taylor,"  I  made  bold  to  answer,  though  her 
eyes  went  through  me,  and  killed  the  courage  in  me. 

"Ay,  Charles,  that  is  like  enough,"  she  replied. 
"And  Taylor,  that  Avas  your  mother's.  It  is  a  waiting- 
woman's  name.     But  who  was  your  father,  my  man  ?  " 

"  Charles  Taylor  too,"  I  stammered,  falling  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  lie. 

"  Odds  my  eyes,  no  !  "  she  retorted  with  an  ugly  grin, 
and  shook  her  piled-up  head  at  me,  "and  you  know  it  ! 
Come  nearer!"  and  then  when  I  obeyed,  "take  that 
for  your  lie  !  "  she  cried  ;  and,  leaning  forward  with  an 
activity  I  did  not  susj^ect,  she  aimed  a  blow  at  me  with 
her  ebony  cane,  and,  catching  me  smartly  across  the  shins, 
made  me  jump  again.  "That  is  for  lying,  my  man," 
she  continued  with  satisfaction,  as  I  stooped  ruefully  to 
rub  myself.  "  Before  now  I  have  had  a  man  stopped  and 
killed  in  the  street  for  less.  Ay,  that  have  I  !  and  a 
l^rettier  man  than  you,  and  a  gentleman!  And  now 
walk  !  walk  !  "  she  repeated,  tapping  the  floor  imperi- 
ously, "  and  fancy  that  you  have  money  in  your  purse." 

I  obeyed.     But  naturally  the  smart  of  the  cane  did  not 


144  SHREWSBURY 

tend  to  set  me  at  my  ease,  or  abate  my  awe  of  the  old 
witch  ;  and  left  to  myself  I  should  have  made  a  poor 
show.  Both  the  man  and  the  woman,  however,  prompted 
and  drilled  me  with  stealthy  eagerness,  and  whispering 
me  continually  to  do  this  and  that,  to  hold  up  my  chin, 
to  lay  back  my  shoulders,  to  shake  out  my  handkerchief, 
to  j)oint  my  toes,  I  suppose  I  came  off  better  in  this 
strange  exhibition  than  might  have  been  expected.  For 
by-and-by,  the  lady,  who  never  ceased  to  watch  me  with 
sharp  eyes,  grunted  and  bade  me  stand.  "  He  might 
pass,"  she  said,  "  among  fools,  and  with  his  mouth  shut  ! 
But  odds  my  life,"  she  continued,  irritably,  "  God  have 
mercy  on  us  that  there  should  be  need  of  all  this  !  Is 
there  no  royalty  left  in  the  world,  that  my  son,  of  all 
people,  should  turn  traitor  to  his  lawful  King,  and  spit 
on  his  father's  faith  ?  Sometimes  I  could  curse  him. 
And  you,  woman,"  she  cried  with  sudden  fierceness, 
"you  cajoled  him  once.  Can  you  do  nothing  now,  you 
Jezebel?" 

But  the  woman  she  addressed  stood  stiffly  upright, 
looking  before  her,  and  answered  nothing  ;  and  the  mis- 
tress, with  a  smothered  curse,  turned  to  the  man. 
"  Well,"  she  said,  "  have  you  nothing  to  say  ?  " 

"  OvUj,  madam,  what  I  said  before,"  he  answered 
smoothly  and  gravely  ;  "  my  lord's  secession  is  no  longer 
in  issue.  The  question  is  how  he  may  be  brought  back 
into  the  path  of  loyalty.  To  be  frank,  he  is  not  of  the 
stuff  of  those,  whom  your  ladyship  knows,  who  will  read- 
ily lick  both  sides  of  the  trencher.  And  so,  without  some 
little  i^ressure,  he  will  not  be  brought  back.  But  were 
he  once  committed  to  the  good  cause,  either  by  an  indis- 
cretion on  his  own  part,  if  he  could  be  induced  to 
that " 

"Which  he  cannot,  man,  he  cannot,"  she  struck  in 
impatiently.  "  He  made  one  slip,  and  he  will  make  no 
second." 


SHREWSBURY  145 

"True,  madam,"  the  man  answered.  "Then  there 
remains  only  the  way  which  does  not  depend  on  him  ; 
and  which  I  before  indicated  ;  some  ruse  which  may  lead 
both  the  friends  and  enemies  of  the  good  cause  to  think 
him  committed  to  it.  Afterwards,  this  opinion  being 
brought  to  his  notice,  and  with  it,  the  possibility  of  clear- 
ins:  himself  to  the  satisfaction  both  of  St.  Germain's  and 
St.  James's,  he  would,  I  think,  come  over." 

"  'Tis  a  long  way  round,"  said  madam,  dryly. 

"  It  is  a  long  way  to  Eome,  madam,"  said  the  man, 
with  meaning  in  his  voice. 

She  nodded  and  shifted  uneasily  in  her  seat.  "You 
think  that  the  one  means  the  other?  "  she  said  at  last. 

"  I  do,  madam.  But  there  is  a  new  point,  which  has 
just  arisen." 

"A  new  point!     What?" 

"  There  is  a  design,  and  it  presses,"  the  man  answered 
in  a  low  voice,  and  as  if  he  chose  his  words  with  care.  "  It 
will  be  executed  within  the  month.  If  it  succeed,  and 
my  lord  be  still  where  he  is,  and  unreconciled,  I  know  no 
head  will  fall  so  certainly.  Not  Lord  j\Iiddleton's  influ- 
ence, no,  nor  yours,  my  lady,  will  save  him." 

"What,  and  my  Lord  Marlborough  escape?" 

"  Yes,  madam,  for  he  has  made  his  peace,  and  proved 
his  sincerity." 

"I  believe  it,"  she  said,  grimly.  "He  is  the  devil. 
And  his  wife  is  like  unto  him.  But  there's  Sidney  Godol- 
phin — what  of  him  ?  " 

"  He  has  made  his  peace,  madam." 

"Russell?" 

"The  same,  madam,  and  given  proofs." 

"But,  odds  my  soul,  sir,"  she  cried,  sharply  and  pet- 
tishly, "  if  everybody  is  of  one  mind,  where  does  it  stick 
that  the  king  does  not  come  over  ?  " 

"  On  a  life,  madam,"  Smith  answered,  letting  each  word 
fall  slowly,  as  if  it  were  a  jewel.  "  One  life  intervenes." 
10 


146  SHREWSBURY 

"Ha!"  she  said,  sitting  np  and  looking  straight 
before  her.  '"Sits  the  wind  in  that  qnarter?  Well,  I 
thought  so." 

"  And  therefore  time  presses." 

"Still,  man,"  she  said,  "our  family  has  done  much 
for  the  throne;  and  his  Gracious  Majesty  has " 

"  Has  many  virtues,  my  lady,  but  he  is  not  forgiving," 
quoth  the  tempter,  coolly. 

On  that  she  sighed,  and  deeply  ;.  and  I,  hearing  the 
sigh,  and  seeing  how  uneasily  she  moved  in  her  chair, 
comprehended  that  in  old  age  the  passions,  however 
strong  they  may  have  been  in  youth,  become  slaves  to  help 
others  to  their  aims;  ay,  and  I  comprehended  also  that, 
sharply  as  she  had  just  rated  both  the  man  and  the 
woman,  and  great  lady  as  she  was,  and  arrogant  as  had 
been  her  life — whereof  evidence  more  than  enough  was  to 
be  found  in  every  glance  of  her  eye  and  tone  of  her  voice 
— she  was  now  being  pushed  and  pushed  and  pushed,  into 
that  to  which  she  was  but  half  inclined.  But  half  inclined, 
I  repeat ;  and  yet  the  battle  was  over,  and  she  persuaded. 
I  think,  but  I  am  not  quite  sure,  that  some  assenting 
word  had  actually  fallen  from  her— or  she  was  in  the  act 
of  speaking  one — when  a  gentle  knock  at  the  door  cut 
short  our  conference.  Mr.  Smith  raised  his  hand  in 
warning,  and  the  woman,  gliding  to  the  door,  opened  it, 
and  after  speaking  a  word  to  someone  without,  returned. 

"  My  lord  is  below,"  said  she. 

It  was  strange  to  see  how  madam's  face  changed  at  that; 
and  how,  on  the  instant,  eagerness  took  the  place  of 
fatigue,  and  hope  of  ennui.  There  was  no  question  now 
of  withstanding  her;  or  of  any  other  giving  orders.  The 
parrot  must  be  removed,  because  he  did  not  like  it ;  and 
we  fared  no  better.  "  Let  him  up,"  she  cried,  peremp- 
torily, striking  her  stick  on  the  floor;  "  let  him  up.  And 
do  you,  Monterey,"  she  continued  to  the  woman,  "begone, 
and  quickly.    It  irks  him  to  see  you.    And,  Smith,  to-mor- 


SHRE  WSB  UR  Y  147 

row  !  Do  you  hear  me?  come  to-morrow,  and  I  will  talk. 
And  take  away  that  oaf  !  Ugh,  out  with  him  !  My  lord 
must  not  be  kept  waiting  for  such  canaille.  To-morrow  ! 
to-morrow  ! " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Truth  to  tell,  I  desired  nothing  so  much  as  to  be  gone 
and  be  out  of  this  imbroglio  ;  and  the  woman,  whom 
madam  had  called  Monterey,  twitching  my  sleeve  and 
whispering  me,  I  followed  her,  and  slij)ped  out  as  quickly 
as  I  could  through  the  door  by  which  we  had  entered. 
Even  so  we  were  not  a  moment  too  soon,  if  I  was  to 
retreat  unseen.  For  as  the  curtain  dropped  behind  me 
I  heard  a  man's  voice  in  the  room  I  had  left,  and  the 
woman  with  me  chancing  to  have  the  lamp,  which  she  had 
lifted  from  the  table,  in  her  hand  at  the  instant — so  that 
the  light  fell  brightly  on  her  face — I  was  witness  of  an 
extraordinary  change  which  passed  over  her  features. 
She  grew  rigid  with  rage — rage,  I  took  it  to  be — and  stood 
listening  with  distended  eyes,  in  perfect  forgetfulness  of 
my  presence ;  until,  seeming  at  last  to  remember  me,  she 
glanced  from  me  to  the  curtain  and  from  the  curtain  to 
me  in  a  kind  of  frantic  uncertainty  ;  being  manifestly 
torn  in  two  between  the  desire  to  hear  what  passed,  and 
the  desire  to  see  me  out  that  I  might  not  hear.  But  as, 
to  effect  the  latter  she  must  sacrifice  the  former,  it  did  not 
require  a  sage  to  predict  which  impulse,  curiosity  incited 
by  hatred  or  mere  prudence,  would  prevail  with  a  woman. 
And  as  the  sage  would  have  predicted  so  it  happened  ; 
after  making  an  abortive  movement  as  if  she  would  place 
the  lamp  in  my  hands,  she  stealthily  laid  it  on  the  table 
beside  her,  and  making  me  a  sign  to  wait  and  be  silent, 
bent  eagerly  to  listen. 


148  SHREWSBURY 

I  fancy  that  it  was  the  mention  of  her  own  name 
turned  the  scale  ;  for  that  was  the  first  word  that  caught 
my  ear,  and  wlio  that  was  a  woman  would  not  listen, 
being  mentioned  ?  The  speaker  Avas  her  mistress,  and 
the  words  "  What,  Monterey  ?  "  uttered  in  a  voice  a  little 
sharp  and  raised,  were  as  clearly  heard  as  if  we  had  been 
in  the  room. 

"Yes,  madam,"  came  the  answer. 

"Well,"  my  lady  replied  with  a  chuckle,  "I  do  not 
think  that  you  are  the  person  who  ought  to " 

"Object?  PerhajDS  not,  my  lady  mother,"  came  the 
answer.  The  speaker's  tone  was  one  of  grave  yet  kindly 
remonstrance;  the  voice  quite  strange  to  me.  "  But  that 
is  i^recisely  why  I  do,"  he  continued.  "  I  cannot  think 
it  wise  or  fitting  that  you  should  keep  her  about  you." 

"  You  kept  her  long  enough  about  you  !  "  madam 
answered,  in  a  tone  between  vexation  and  raillery. 

"  I  own  it ;  and  I  am  not  proud  of  it,"  the  new-comer 
rejoined.  Whereat,  though  I  was  careful  not  to  look  at 
the  woman  listening  beside  me,  I  saw  the  veins  in  one  of 
her  hands  which  was  under  my  eyes  swell  with  the  rage  in 
her,  and  the  nail  of  the  thumb  grow  white  with  the  pres- 
sure she  was  placing  on  the  table  to  keep  herself  still.  "  I 
am  very  far  from  proud  of  it,"  the  speaker  continued, 
"and  for  the  matter  of  that " 

"You  were  always  a  bit  of  a  Puritan,  Charles,"  my 
lady  cried. 

"It  may  be." 

"lam  sure  I  do  not  know  where  you  get  it  from," 
madam  continued  irritably,  stirring  in  her  chair — I  heard 
it  crack,  and  her  voice  told  the  rest.  "  Not  from  me, 
I'll  swear  !  " 

"  I  never  accused  you,  madam." 

That  answer  seemed  to  please  her,  for  on  the  instant 
she  went  off  into  such  a  fit  of  laughter  as  fairly  choked 
her.     When  she  had  a  little  recovered  from  the  paroxysm 


SREEWSBUET  149 

of  coughing  that  followed  this,  "  You  can  be  more  amus- 
ing than  you  think,  Charles,"  she  said.  "  If  your  father 
had  had  a  spark  of  yonr  humour " 

"  I  thought  that  it  was  agreed  between  us  that  we 
should  not  talk  of  him,"  the  man  said  gravely,  and  Avith 
a  slight  suspicion  of  sternness  in  his  voice. 

"Oh,  if  you  are  on  your  high  horse!"  madam  an- 
swered, "  the  devil  take  you  !  But,  there,  I  am  sure  that 
I  do  not  want  to  talk  of  him,  poor  man.  lie  was  dull 
enough.  Let  us  talk  of  something  livelier,  let  us  talk  of 
Monterey  instead ;  what  is  amiss  with  her  ?  "  # 

"I  do  not  think  that  she  is  a  fit  person  to  be  about 
you." 

"  Why  not?  She  is  married  now,"  my  lady  retorted. 
"D'ye  know  that?" 

"  Yes,  I  heard  some  time  ago  that  she  was  married;  to 
Mr.  Bridges'  steward  at  Kingston." 

"Matthew  Smith?" 

"Yes." 

"And  who  recommended  him.  to  my  husband,  I  should 
like  to  know?"  madam  answered  in  atone  of  malice. 
"Why,  you,  my  friend." 

" It  is  possible.     I  remember  something  of  the  kind." 

"  And  who  recommended  him  to  you  ?  Why,  she  did: 
in  the  days  when  you  did  not  warn  people  against  her." 
And  madam  chuckled  wickedly. 

"It  is  possible,"  he  answered,  "but  the  matter  is 
twelve  years  old,  and  more;  and  I  do  not  want  to " 

"Go  back  to  it,"  madam  cried  sharply.  "I  can 
quite  understand  that.  Nor  to  have  Monterey  about  to 
remind  you  of  it — and  of  your  wild  oats." 

"Perhaps." 

"Perhaps,  Mr.  Square-Toes?  You  know  it  is  the 
case!  "  was  the  vivid  answer.  "  For  otherwise,  as  I  like 
the  woman,  and  now,  at  all  events,  she  is  married — 
what  is  against  her  ?  " 


150  SHREWSBURY 

'^I  do  not  trust  her,"  was  the  measured  answer. 
"  And,  madam,  in  these  days  people  are  more  strait-laced 
than  they  were;  it  is  not  fitting." 

"That  for  people!"  my  lady  cried  with  a  reckless 
good  humour  that  would  have  been  striking  in  one  half 
her  age.  "People!  Odds  my  life,  when  did  I  care  for 
people  ?  But  come,  I  will  make  a  bargain  with  you. 
Tit  for  tat.  A  Roland  for  your  Oliver!  If  you  will 
give  me  your  Anne  1  will  give  you  my  Monterey." 

"My  Anne?"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  complete 
bewilderment. 

"Yes,  your  Anne!  Come,  my  Monterey  for  your 
Anne!  " 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  "  I  do  not 
at  all  understand  you,"  he  said. 

"  Don't  you?  I  think  you  do,"  she  answered  lightly. 
"  Look  you, 

'  When  William  king  is  William  king  no  more. 

Now,  you  nnderstand  ?  " 

"I  understand,  my  lady,  that  you  are  saying  things 
which  are  not  fitting  for  me  to  hear,"  the  man  answered, 
in  a  tone  of  cold  displeasure.  "The  King,  thank  God, 
is  well.  When  he  ails,  it  will  be  time  to  talk  of  his 
succession. ' ' 

"  It  will  be  a  little  late  then,"  she  retorted.  "  In  the 
meantime,  and  to  please  me " 

He  raised  his  hand  in  protest.  "Anything  else,"  he 
said. 

"  You  have  not  yet  heard  what  I  propose,"  she  cried, 
her  voice  shrill  with  anger.  "It  is  a  trifle,  and  to 
please  me  you  might  well  do  it.  Set  your  hand  to  a  note 
which  I  will  see  delivered  in  the  proper  quarter;  promis- 
ing nothing  in  the  Prince's  life-time — there!  but  only  that 
in  the  event  of  his  death  you  will  support  a  Restoration. ' ' 

"  I  cannot  do  it,"  he  answered. 


SHREWSBURY  151 

"Cannot  do  it?"   she  rejoined  with  heat.      "Why 
not?     You  have  done  as  much  before." 

"It   maybe:    and  been  forgiven   for   it   by  the   best 
master  man  ever  had!  " 

"  Who  feels  nothing,  forgives  easily,"  she  sneered. 
But  not  twice,"  he  said  gravely.     "  The  King " 


a 


"Which  King?" 


The  only  King  I  acknowledge,"  he  answered,  un- 
moved. "Who  knows,  believe  me,  so  much  more  than 
you  give  him  credit  for,  that  it  were  well  if  your  friends 
bethought  them  of  that  before  it  be  too  late.  He  has 
winked  at  much  and  forgiven  more — no  one  knows  it 
better  than  I — but  he  is  not  blinded;  and  there  is  a 
point,  madam,  beyond  which  he  can  be  as  steadfast  to 
punish  as  your  King.  If  Sir  John  Fenwick,  therefore, 
who  I  know  well,  is  in  England " 

But  at  that  she  cut  him  short,  carried  away  by  a  pas- 
sion, which  she  had  curbed  as  long  as  it  was  in  her 
impetuous  nature  to  curb  anything.  "Odds  my  life!" 
she  cried,  and  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  u^jlifted  in  a 
shriek  of  anger,  the  woman  listening  beside  me  raised 
her  face  to  mine,  and  smiled  cruelly — "Odds  my  life, 
your  King  and  my  King!  Kings  indeed!  Why,  man- 
nikin,  how  many  Kings  do  you  think  there  are!  By 
G — d.  Master  Charles,  you  will  learn  one  of  these  days 
that  there  is  but  one  King,  sent  by  God,  one  King  and 
no  more,  and  that  his  yea  and  nay  are  life  and  death! 
You  fool,  you!  I  tell  you,  you  are  trembling  on  the 
edge,  you  are  tottering!  A  day,  a  week,  a  month,  at 
most,  and  you  fall — unless  you  clutch  at  the  chance  of 
safety  I  offer  you!  Sign  the  note!  Sign  the  note, 
man!  No  one  but  the  King  and  Middleton  shall  know 
of  it;  and  when  the  day  comes,  as  come  it  will,  it  shall 
avail  you." 

"  Never,  madam,"  was  the  cold  and  unmoved  answer. 

So  much  I  heard  and  my  lady's  oath  and  volley  of 


152  SHREWSBURY 

abuse;  but  in  the  midst  of  this,  and  Avliile  she  still  raged, 
my  companion,  satisfied  I  suppose  with  what  she  had 
learned,  and  assured  that  her  lady  would  not  get  her 
way,  twitched  my  sleeve,  and  softly  taking  np  the  lamp, 
signed  to  me  to  go  before  her.  I  obeyed  nothing  loth, 
and  regaining  the  small  ante-room  by  which  I  had  en- 
tered, found  the  man  Smith  awaiting  us. 

When  they  had  whispered  together,  "  I'll  see  you 
home,  Mr.  Taylor,"  said  he,  somewhat  grimly.  "And 
to-morrow  I  will  call  and  talk  business.  What  we  want 
you  to  do  is  a  very  simple  matter." 

"It  is  simply  that  my  lady's  son  is  a  fool!  "  the  wo- 
man cried,  snappishly. 

"Well,"  he  said,  smiling,  "I  should  hardly  call  my 
Lord  Shrewsbury  that!  " 

The  woman  screamed  and  clapped  her  hand  to  his 
mouth.  "  You  babbling  idiot!  "  she  ci'ied,  in  a  passion. 
"You  have  let  it  out." 

He  stood  gaping.     "  Good  lord!  "  he  said. 

"You  have  let  it  out  with  a  vengeance  now!"  she 
repeated,  furiously. 

He  looked  foolish;  and  at  last,  "He  did  not  hear," 
he  said. 

"  Hear?  He  heard,  unless  he  is  deaf!  "  she  retorted. 
"You  may  lay  your  account  with  that.  For  me,  I'll 
leave  you.  You  have  done  the  mischief  and  may  mend 
it." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

But  as  the  spoken  word  has  sometimes  the  permanence 
which  proverbs  attach  to  the  Littera  scripta,  and  is  only 
confirmed  by  bungling  essays  to  erase  it,  so  it  was  in  this 
case;  Mr.   Smith's  endeavours  to  explain  away  the  fact 


SHREWSBURY  153 

which  he  had  carelessly  blabbed  only  serving  to  impress 
it  the  more  deeply  on  my  memory.  It  would  seem  that 
he  was  joartly  aware  of  this;  for  not  only  did  his  attempts 
lack  the  dexterity  which  I  should  have  expected  from  one 
whose  features  augured  much  experience  of  the  world, 
but  he  quickly  gave  up  the  attempt  as  labour  in  vain,  and 
gruffly  bidding  me  go  before  to  the  coach,  followed  me 
and  took  his  seat  beside  me.  We  rumbled  away.  The 
night  was  overcast,  the  neighbourhood  seemed  to  be  rural; 
and,  starting  from  an  unknown  point,  I  had  less  chance 
than  before  of  tracing  the  devious  lanes  and  streets 
through  which  we  drove;  so  that  when  the  coach  pres- 
ently stopi)ed  in  a  part  of  the. town  more  frequented,  I 
had  not  the  least  idea  where  we  were,  or  where  we  had 
been. 

"  You  can  get  home  from  here,"  said  he,  still  ruffled, 
and  scarce  able  to  speak  to  me  civilly. 

Then  I  saw,  as  I  went  to  descend,  that  we  were  near 
the  end  of  Holborn,  in  the  Tyburn  Eoad,  where  it  grows 
to  country.  "I  will  see  you  to-morrow,"  he  cried. 
"And,  mind  you,  in  the  meantime,  the  less  you  say  to 
Ferguson  the  better,  my  man!  "  With  which  the  coach 
drove  away  towards  Kensington,  leaving  me  standing 
against  the  wall  of  St.  Giles's  Pound. 

Thus  released,  alone,  and  free  to  consider  what  had 
happened  to  me,  I  found  a  difficulty  in  tracing  where  I 
had  been,  but  none  in  following  the  drift  of  the  strange 
scene  and  stranger  conversation  at  which  I  had  been  pres- 
ent. Even  the  plans  of  those  who  had  conveyed  me  to 
that  place  were  transparent.  It  needed  no  Solomon  to 
discern  that  in  the  man  Smith  and  the  woman  Monterey 
the  young  lord  had  two  foes  in  his  mother's  household, 
as  dangerous  as  foes  could  be;  the  woman  moved,  as  I 
conjectured,  by  that  sjjretce  injuria  formcB,  of  which  the 
great  Koman  poet  speaks,  and  the  man  by  I  know  not 
what  old  wrong  or  jealousy.     It  was  plain  that  these  two, 


1 54  SERE  WSB  UR  Y 

to  obtain  their  ends,  were  urging  on  the  mother  a  most 
perilous  policy:  that,  I  mean,  of  committing  the  son  to 
the  Jacobite  Court,  that  so  he  might  be  cut  off  from  St. 
James's;  moreover,  that,  as  he  could  not  be  induced,  in 
p7'0j)rid  persond,  to  such  a  treasonable  step  as  would 
serve  their  ends,  advantage  was  to  be  taken  of  some  like- 
ness that  I  bore  to  him  (which  Smith  had  observed  the 
previous  evening  in  Covent  Garden)  to  personate  him  in 
a  place  or  company  where  his  presence  would  be  conclu- 
sive both  for  and  against  him. 

I  could  believe  that  the  mother  contemplated  but 
vaguely  the  power  over  him  which  the  incident  would 
give  her;  and  dreamed  of  using  it  only  in  the  last  resort; 
rather  amusing  herself  in  the  present  with  the  thought 
that  short  of  this,  and  without  bringing  the  deception  to 
his  notice,  the  efiect  she  desired  would  be  produced — 
since  he  would  be  held  at  St.  Germain's  to  be  well  affected, 
and  at  St.  James's  the  matter  would  not  be  known.  So, 
in  his  own  despite,  and  without  his  knowledge,  he  could 
be  reconciled  to  the  one  court,  while  remaining  faithful 
to  the  other! 

But,  as  in  the  mass  of  conspiracies — and  this  was  espe- 
cially true  of  the  conspiracies  of  that  age — the  acute  eye 
can  detect  the  existence  of  an  inner  and  outer  ring  of 
conspirators,  whereof  the  latter  are  commonly  the  dupes 
of  the  former,  so  I  took  it  that  here  Smith  and  the  wo- 
man meditated  other  and  more  serious  results  than  those 
which  my  lady  foresaw;  and,  tlnnking  less  of  my  lord's 
safety  in  the  event  of  a  Restoration  than  of  punishing 
him  or  obtaining  a  hold  upon  him — and  more  of  private 
revenge  than  of  the  Good  Cause — had  madam  for  their 
principal  tool.  Such  a  consideration,  while  it  increased 
my  reluctance  to  be  mixed  up  with  a  matter  so  two-faced, 
left  me  to  think  whether  I  should  not  seek  out  the  vic- 
tim, and  by  an  early  information,  gain  his  favour  and 
protection. 


SHREWSBURY  155 

I  stood  in  the  darkness  of  the  street  doubtful,  and 
weighing  the  matter.  Clearly,  if  I  had  to  do  the  thing, 
now  was  the  time,  before  I  saw  Smith,  or  exposed  myself 
to  an  urgency  which  in  spite  of  his  politeness  might,  I 
fancied,  be  of  a  kind  difficult  to  resist.  If  by  going 
straight  to  Lord  Shrewsbury  I  could  kill  two  birds  with 
one  stone — could  at  once  free  myself  from  the  gang  of 
plotter  under  whom  I  suffered,  and  secure  for  the  future 
a  valuable  patron — here  was  a  chance  in  a  hundred,  aud 
I  should  be  foolish  to  hesitate. 

Nor  did  I  do  so  long.  True,  it  stuck  me  a  little  that  I 
knew  nothing  of  my  Lord  Shrewsbury's  whereabouts  in 
London;  nor  whether  he  lived  in  town,  or  in  the  great 
house  among  the  lanes  and  gardens  which  I  had  visited, 
but  of  the  road  whereto  I  had  no  more  knowledge  than 
a  blind  man.  This,  however,  I  could  learn  at  the  nearest 
coffee-house:  and  impulse  rather  than  calculation  direct- 
ing my  steps,  I  hurried  hot-foot  towards  Covent  Garden, 
which  lay  conveniently  to  my  hand. 

It  Avas  not  until  I  was  in  the  Square  and  close  to  the 
Piazza  that  I  bethought  me  how  imprudent  I  was  to 
re-visit  the  scene  of  last  night's  adventure;  a  place  where 
it  was  common  knowledge  that  the  Jacobites  held  their 
assignations;  and  where  I  might  be  recognised.  To 
reinforce  this  late-found  discretion,  and  blow  up  the 
spark  of  alarm  already  kindled,  I  had  not  stood  hesitat- 
ing while  a  man  could  count  ten,  before  my  eye  fell  on 
the  very  same  soldierly  gentleman,  with  the  handkerchief 
hanging  out  of  his  pocket,  to  whom  I  had  been  sent  the 
evening  before.  He  was  alone,  walking  under  the  dimly- 
lighted  Piazza,  as  he  had  walked  then;  but  as  I  caught 
sight  of  him  two  others  came  up  and  joined  him:  and  in 
terror  lest  these  should  be  the  two  I  liad  met  before,  I 
retreated  hastily  into  the  shadow  of  St.  Paul's  Church, 
and  so  back  the  way  I  had  come. 

However,  I  was  not  to  get  off  so  easily.     Though  the 


156 


SHREWSBURY 


hour  was  late,  the  market  closed,  and  the  pavement  in 
front  of  the  taverns  deserted,  or  fringed  only  by  a  chair 
waiting  for  a  belated  gamester,  I  ran  a  greater  risk  of  be- 
ing recognised,  as  I  passed, 
than  I  thought;  and  had 
not  gone  ten  paces  along 
King  Street  before  I  heard 
a  liglit  foot  following  me, 
and  a  hand  caught  my  arm. 
Turning  in  a  fright  I  found 
it  was  only  a  girl;  and,  at 
first  sight,  was  for  wresting 
myself  from  her,  glad  that 
it  was  no  worse:  but  she 
muttered  my  name,  and 
looking  down  I  recognised 
to  my  astonishment  the  girl 
I  had  seen  at  Ferguson's 
earlier  in  the  evening. 

At  that,   I  remember,  a 

dread  of  the  man  and  his 

power    seized    me 

_   —  and   chilled   my 

~  ^         very  heart.     This 

was  the  third  time 


this  girl,  whom  I 
_  never  saw  at  other 
seasons,  had  arisen 
out  of  the  ground 
to  confront  me  and 
pluck  me  back 
I  stared  at  her,  think- 


I    HEART)    A    LIGHT    FOOT    FOLLOWING    ME 


when  on  the  point  of  betraying  him 
ing  of  this,  with  I  know  not  what  of  affright  and  shrink- 
ing; and  could  scarcely  command  either  voice  or  limbs. 

And  yet  as  she  stood  looking  at  me   with  the   dark 
length  of  the  street  stretching  to  the  market  behind  her, 


SHREWSBURY  157 

it  must  be  confessed  that  there  was  little  in  her  appearance 
to  cause  terror.  The  night  being  cold,  and  a  small  rain 
falling,  she  had  a  shawl  drawn  tightly  over  her  head, 
whence  her  face,  small  and  pale  as  a  child's,  peered  at 
me.  I  thought  to  read  in  it  a  sly  and  elfish  trinraph 
such  as  became  Ferguson's  minion:  instead  I  discerned 
only  a  weariness  that  went  ill  with  her  years — and  a  little 
flickec  of  contempt  in  eye  and  lip.  The  Aveariness  was 
also  in  her  voice  when  she  spoke.  "Well  met,  Mr. 
Price,"  she  said.     "  I  am  in  luck  to  light  on  you." 

I  shivered  in  my  shoes;  but  without  seeming  to  mark 
me,  "  I  want  this  note  taken  to  Mr.  Watkins,"  she  con- 
tinued, rapidly  pressing  a  scrap  of  paper  into  my  hand. 
"  He  is  in  the  tavern  there,  the  Seven  Stars.  Ask  for 
the  Apollo  Room,  and  you  will  lind  him." 

"But,  one  minute,"  I  protested,  as  in  her  eagerness 
she  pushed  me  that  way  with  her  hand,  "  did  Mr.  Fergu- 
son  Is  it  from  him  ?  ' ' 

"Of  course,  fool,"  she  answered,  sharplv.  "  Do  you 
think  that  I  have  been  standing  here  for  the  last  half-hour 
in  cold  and  wet  for  my  own  pleasure  ?  " 

"  But  if  he  sent  it?  "  I  remonstrated,  feebly,  "  perhaps 
he  may  not  like  me  to  interfere — to " 

"Like  me  to?"  she  retorted,  sharply,  mocking  my 
tone.  "  Who  said  he  would  ?  Cannot  you  understand 
that  it  is  I  who  do  not  like  to?  That  I  am  not  going 
into  that  place  at  this  time  of  night,  and  half  in  the 
house  drunken  brutes?  It  is  bad  enough  to  be  here, 
loitering  up  and  down  as  if  I  were  what  I  am  not — and 
free  to  be  spoken  to  by  every  impudent  blood  that  passes! 
Go,  man,  and  do  it,  and  I  will  wait  so  long.  What  do 
yon  fear?  " 

"The  rope,"  said  I,  "  to  be  plain  with  you."  And  I 
looked  with  abhorrence  at  the  scrap  of  paper  she  had 
given  me.     "  I  have  taken  too  many  of  these,"  I  said. 

"Well,  you  will  take  one  more!"  she  answered,  dog- 


158  SHREWSBURY 

gedly.  "  Or  you  are  no  man.  See,  there  is  the  door. 
Ask  for  the  Apollo  Room,  give  it  to  him,  and  the  thing 
is  done!  "  And  with  that  she  set  both  hands  to  me  and 
pushed  me  the  way  she  would  have  me  move — I  mean 
towards  the  tavern.     "  Go!  "  she  said.     "  Go!  " 

Hate  the  thing  as  I  might,  and  did,  I  could  not  resist 
persuasions  addressed  to  me  in  such  a  tone;  nor  fail  to 
be  moved  by  the  girl's  shrinking  from  the  task,  which 
had  to  be  done,  it  seemed,  by  one  of  us.  After  all,  it 
was  no  more  than  I  had  done  several  times  before;  and 
my  reluctance  having  its  origin  in  the  resolution,  to  which 
I  had  just  come,  to  break  oS  from  the  gang,  yielded  to 
the  reflection  that  the  design  lay  as  yet  in  my  own  breast, 
and  might  be  carried  out  as  well  to-morrow  as  to-day.  In 
a  word,  I  complied  out  of  pity,  went  to  the  tavern,  and 
walked  boldly  in. 

I  had  been  in  the  house  before,  and  knew  where  I 
should  find  a  waiter  of  whom  I  might  enquire  privately; 
I  passed  by  the  public  room,  therefore,  and  was  for  going 
to  the  place  I  mean.  I  had  scarcely  advanced  three  paces 
beyond  the  threshold,  however,  before  a  great  noise  of 
voices  and  laughter  and  beating  of  feet  met  my  ears  and 
surprised  me;  the  hubbub  was  so  loud  and  boisterous  as 
to  be  unusual  even  in  places  of  that  kind.  I  had  no 
more  than  taken  this  in,  and  set  it  down  to  an  orgy  be- 
yond the  ordinary,  when  I  came  on  a  pale-faced  group 
standing  at  gaze  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  the  landlord, 
two  or  three  drawers,  and  as  many  women  being  among 
them.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  they  were  in  a  fever  about 
the  noise  above;  for  while  the  host  was  openly  wringing 
his  hands  and  crying  that  those  devils  would  ruin  him,  a 
woman  who  seemed  to  be  his  wife  was  urging  first  one 
and  then  another  of  the  drawers  to  ascend  and  caution  the 
party.  That  something  more  than  disorderliness  or  a 
visit  from  the  constable  was  in  question  I  gathered  from 
the  host's  pale  face;  and  this  was  confirmed  when  on 


SHREWSBURY  159 

seeing  me  tliey  dispersed  a  little,  and  affected  to  be  un- 
concerned. Until  I  asked  for  the  Apollo  Room,  whereon 
they  all  came  together  again  and  fell  on  me  with  com- 
plaints and  entreaties. 

"  'Fore  God,  sir,  I  think  your  friends  are  mad!  "  the 
host  cried,  in  a  perfect  fury.  "  Go  up!  Go  up,  and  tell 
them  that  if  they  want  to  be  hanged,  and  to  hang  me  as 
well,  they  are  going  the  right  way  about  it." 

"It  is  well  it  is  night,"  said  the  head  waiter  grimly, 
"  or  the  Market  porters  woald  have  broken  our  windows 
before  now." 

"  And  got  us  all  in  the  Compter!  "  the  women  wailed. 
And  then  to  me,  "  Go  up,  sir,  go  up  and  tell  them  that 
if  they  would  not  have  the  mob  pull  the  house  down " 

But  the  tumult  above,  waxing  loud  at  that  moment, 
drowned  her  words,  and  certainly  took  from  me  what 
little  good-will  to  ascend  I  had.  However,  the  host,  hav- 
ing me  there,  a  person  who  had  enquired  for  the  room, 
would  take  no  denial,  but,  delighted  to  have  found  a 
deputy,  he  fairly  set  me  on  the  stairs  and  pushed  me  up. 
"  Go  up  and  tell  them!  Go  up  and  tell  them!  "  he  kept 
repeating.     "  You  asked  for  the  room  and  there  it  is." 

In  a  word  I  had  no  choice,  and  with  reluctance  went 
up.  The  noise  was  such  I  could  not  fail  to  find  the  door 
and  the  room;  I  knocked  and  opened,  a  roar  of  voices 
poured  out,  and  even  before  I  entered  the  room  I  knew 
what  was  afoot,  and  could  swear  to  treason.  Such  cries 
as  "  Down  with  the  Whigs  and  damn  their  King!  "  "  The 
29th  of  May  and  a  glorious  Restoration!"  "  Here's  to 
the  Hunting  Party!  "  poured  out  in  a  confused  medley; 
with  half-a-dozen  others  equally  treasonable,  and  equally 
certain,  were  they  overheard  in  the  street,  to  bring  down 
the  mob  and  the  messengers  on  the  speakers. 

True,  as  soon  as  the  half-muddled  brains  of  the  com- 
pany took  in  the  fact  that  the  door  was  open,  and  a 
stranger  standing  on  the  threshold — which  they  were  not 


160  SHREWSBURY 

quick  to  discern  owing  to  the  cloud  of  tobacco-smoke 
tiiat  filled  the  room — nine-tenths  quavered  off  into 
silence  and  gaped  at  me;  that  2^1'oportion  of  the  com- 
pany having  still  the  sense  to  recognise  the  risk  they 
were  running,  and  to  apprehend  that  judgment  had 
taken  them  in  the  act.  Two  men  in  particular,  older 
than  the  rest — the  one  a  fat,  infirm  fellow  with  a  pallid 
face  and  the  air  of  a  rich  citizen,  the  other  a  peevish, 
red-eyed  atomy  in  a  green  fur-lined  coat — were  of  this 
party.  They  had  not,  I  think,  been  of  the  happiest 
before,  seated  in  the  midst  of  that  crew;  but  now,  sink- 
ing back  in  their  high-backed  chairs,  they  stared  at  me 
as  if  I  carried  death  in  my  face.  A  neighbour  of  theirs, 
however,  went  beyond  them;  for,  with  a  howl  that  the 
Secretary  was  on  them  and  the  officers  were  below,  he 
kicked  over  his  chair  and  dashed  for  a  window,  pausing 
only  when  he  had  thrown  it  up. 

But  with  all  this  the  recklessness  of  some  was  evident: 
for  while  I  stood,  uncertain  to  whom  to  speak,  one  of 
the  more  drunken  staggered  from  his  seat,  and  giving  a 
shrill  view-halloa  that  might  have  been  heard  in  Bedford 
House,  made  towards  me  with  a  cup  in  his  hand. 

"Drink!"  he  cried,  with  a  hiccough  as  he  forced  it 
upon  me.  "Drink!  To  the  squeezing  of  the  Rotten 
Orange!  Drink,  man,  or  you  are  no  friend  of  ours,  but 
a  snivelling,  sneaking,  white-faced  son  of    a  Dutchman 

like  your  master!      So  drink,   and Eh,  what  is  it? 

What  is  the  matter  ?  " 


CHAPTER   XIX 

It  was  no  small  thing  could  enlighten  that  brain  clouded 
by  the  fumes  of  drink  and  conceit;  but  the  silence,  per- 


SHREWSBURY  161 

feet  and  clothing  panic — a  silence  that  had  set  in  with  his 
first  word,  and  a  panic  that  had  grown  with  a  whisper 
passed  round  the  table — came  home  to  him  at  last. 
"What  is  it?  What  is  the  matter?"  he  cried,  with  a 
silly  drunken  laugh.      And  he  turned  to  look. 

No  one  answered;  but  he  saw  the  sight  which  I  had 
already  seen — his  felloAvs  fallen  from  him,  and  huddled 
on  th-e  farther  side  of  the  table,  as  sheep  huddle  from 
the  sheep-dog;  some  pale,  cross-eyed,  and  with  lips 
drawn  back,  seeking  softly  in  their  cloaks  for  weapons; 
others  standing  irresolute,  or  leaning  against  the  wall, 
shaking  and  unnerved. 

Cooled,  but  not  sobered  by  the  sight,  he  turned  to  me 
again.  "  Won't  he  drink  the  toast?  "  he  maundered,  in 
an  uncertain  voice.  "  Why — why  not,  I'd  like  to  know. 
Eh?     Why  not?"  he  repeated;  and  staggered. 

At  that  someone  in  the  crowd  laughed  hysterically; 
and  this  breaking  tiia  spell,  a  second  found  his  voice. 
"  Gad!  It  is  not  the  man!  "  the  latter  cried  with  a  rat- 
tling oath.  "  It  is  all  right!  I  swear  it  is!  Here  you, 
speak,  fool!"  he  went  on  to  me.  "What  do  you 
here?" 

"  This  for  Mr.  Wilkins,"  I  answered,  holding  out  my 
note. 

I  meant  no  jest,  bnt  the  words  supplied  the  signal  for 
such  a  roar  of  laughter  as  well-nigh  lifted  the  roof.  The 
men  were  still  between  drunk  and  sober;  and  in  the 
rebound  of  their  relief  staggered  and  clung  to  one  an- 
other, and  bent  this  way  and  that  in  a  paroxysm  of  con- 
vulsive mirth.  Vainly  one  or  two,  less  heady  than  their 
fellows,  essayed  to  stay  a  tumult  that  promised  to  rouse 
the  watchmen;  it  was  not  until  after  a  considerable  inter- 
val— nor  until  the  more  drunken  had  laughed  their  fill, 
and  I  had  asked  myself  a  hundred  times  if  these  Avere 
men  to  be  trusted  with  secrets  and  others'  necks — that 
the   man   with   the   Avhite  handkerchief,   who   had   just 

11 


162  SHREWSBURY 

entered,  gained  silence  and  a  hearing.  This  done,  how- 
ever, he  rated  his  fellows  with  the  utmost  anger  and  con- 
temjit;  the  two  elderly  gentlemen  whom  I  have  men- 
tioned, adding  their  quavering,  passionate  remonstrances 
to  his.  But  as  in  this  kind  of  association  there  can  be 
little  discipline,  and  those  are  most  forward  who  have 
least  to  lose,  the  hotheads  only  looked  silly  for  a  moment, 
and  the  next  were  calling  for  more  liquor. 

"  Not  a  bottle!  "  said  he  of  the  white  handkerchief, 
"  Nom  de  clieu,  not  a  bottle!  " 

"  Come,  Captain,  we  are  not  on  service  now,"  quoth 
one. 

"  Aren't  yon  ?  "  said  he,  looking  darkly  at  them. 

"No,  not  we!  "  cried  the  other  recklessly,  "and  what 
is  more,  we  will  have  no  '  Regiment  du  Roi '  regulations 
here !  Is  not  a  gentleman  to  have  a  second  bottle  if  he 
wants  one?  " 

"It  is  twelve  o'clock,"  replied  the  Captain.  "For 
the  love  of  Heaven,  man,  wait  till  this  business  is  over; 
and  then  drink  until  you  burst,  if  you  please!  For 
me,  I  am  going  to  bed." 

"But  who  is  this — lord!  I  don't  know  what  to  call 
him ! ' '  the  fellow  retorted,  turning  to  me  with  a  half- 
drunken  gesture.     "  This  Gentleman  Dancing  Master  ?  " 

"  A  messenger  from  the  old  Fox:  Mr. — Taylor,  I  think 
he  calls  himself  ?  "  and  the  officer  turned  to  me. 

"Yes,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  you  may  go.  Tell  the  gentleman  who  sent 
you  that  Wilkins  got  his  note,  and  will  bear  the  matter 
in  mind. " 

I  said  I  would;  and  was  going  with  that,  and  never 
more  glad  than  to  be  out  of  that  company.  But  the  fellow 
who  had  asked  who  I  was,  and  who,  being  thwarted  of 
his  drink,  was  out  of  temper,  called  rudely  to  know 
where  I  got  my  wig,  and  who  rigged  me  out  like  a  lord; 
swearing  that  Ferguson's  service  must  be  a  d d  deal 


SHREWSBURY  163 

better  than  the  one  he  was  in,  and  the  pay  higher  than 
a  poor  trooper's. 

This  gave  the  cue  to  the  man  who  had  before  forced 
the  drink  on  me;  who,  still  having  the  cup  in  his  hand, 
thrust  himself  in  my  way,  and  forcing  the  liquor  on  me 
so  violently  that  he  spilled  some  over  my  coat,  vowed 
that  though  all  the  Scotch  colonels  in  the  world  barred 
the  way,  I  should  drink  his  toast,  or  he  would  skewer 
me. 

"To  Saturday's  work!  A  straight  eye  and  a  firm 
hand!  "  he  cried.  "  Drink  man,  drink!  For  a  hunting 
we  will  go,  and  a  hunting  we  will  go!  And  if  we  don't 
flush  the  game  at  Turnham  Green,  call  me  a  bungler!" 

I  heard  one  of  the  elder  men  protest,  with  something 
between  a  curse  and  a  groan,  that  the  fool  would  pro- 
claim it  at  Charing  Cross  next;  but,  thinking  only  to  be 
gone  (and  the  man  being  so  drunk  that  it  was  evident 
resistance  would  but  render  him  more  obstinate,  and 
imperil  my  skin),  I  took  the  cup  and  drank,  and  gave  it 
back  to  him.  By  that  time  two  or  three  of  the  more 
prudent — if  any  in  that  company  could  be  called  pru- 
dent— had  risen  and  joined  us;  who  when  he  would  have 
given  another  toast,  forced  him  away,  scolding  him 
soundly  for  a  leaky  chatterer,  and  a  fool  who  would  ruin 
all  with  the  drink. 

Freed  from  his  importunities,  I  waited  for  no  second 
permission;  but  got  me  out  and  down  the  stairs.  At 
the  foot  of  which  the  landlord's  scared  face  and  the 
waiting,  watching  eyes  of  the  drawers  and  servants,  who 
still  lingered  there,  listening,  put  the  last  touch  to  the 
picture  of  madness  and  recklessness  I  had  witnessed 
above.  Here  were  informers  and  evidences  ready  to  hand 
and  more  than  enough,  if  the  beggars  in  the  street, 
and  the  orange  girls,  and  night  walkers  who  prowled 
the  market  were  not  sufficient,  to  bring  home  to  its 
authors  the  treason  they  bawled  and  shouted  overhead. 


164  SHREWSBURY 

The  thought  that  such  rogues  should  endanger  my 
neck,  and  good,  honest  men's  necks,  made  my  blood  run 
cold  and  hot  at  once;  hot,  when  I  thought  of  their  folly, 
cold,  when  I  recalled  Mr.  Ashton  executed  in  '90  for 
carrying  treasonable  letters,  or  Anderton,  betrayed,  and 
done  to  death  for  printing  the  like.  I  could  understand 
Ferguson's  methods;  they  had  reason  in  them,  and  if  I 
hated  them  and  loathed  them,  they  were  not  so  very 
dangerous.  For  he  had  disguises  and  many  names  and 
lodgings,  and  lurked  from  one  to  another  under  cover  of 
night;  and  if  he  sowed  treason,  he  sowed  it  stealthily 
and  in  darkness,  with  all  the  adjuncts  which  prudence 
and  tradition  dictated;  he  boasted  to  those  only  whom 
he  had  in  his  power,  and  used  the  like  instruments.  But 
the  outbreak  of  noisy,  rampant,  reckless  rebellion  which 
I  had  witnessed — and  which  it  seemed  to  me  must  be 
known  to  all  London  within  twenty-four  hours — filled  me 
with  panic.  It  so  put  me  beside  myself,  that  when  the 
girl  who  had  employed  me  on  that  errand  met  me  in  the 
street,  I  cursed  her  and  would  have  j^assed  her;  being 
unable  to  say  another  word,  lest  I  should  weep.  But  she 
turned  with  me,  and  keeping  pace  with  me  asked  me 
continually  what  it  was;  and  getting  no  answer,  by-and- 
by  caught  my  arm,  and  forced  me  to  stand  in  the  pas- 
sage beyond  Bedford  House  and  close  to  the  Strand. 
Here  she  repeated  her  question  so  fiercely — asking  me 
besides  if  I  were  mad,  and  the  like — and  showed  herself 
such  a  termagant,  that  I  had  no  option  but  to  answer 
her. 

"  Mad  ?  "  I  cried,  passionately.  "  Aye,  I  am  mad — to 
have  anything  to  do  with  such  as  you." 

"But  what  is  it?  What  has  happened?"  she  per- 
sisted, peering  at  me;  and  so  barring  the  way  that  I 
could  not  pass. 

"  Could  you  not  hear  ?  " 

"  I   could   hear   that   they    were   drinking,"    she   an- 


SHREWSBURY  165 

svverecl.  "  I  knew  that,  and  therefore  I  thought  that  you 
should  go  to  them." 

"  And  rim  the  risk  ?  "' 

''  Well,  you  are  a  man,"  she  answered  coolly. 

At  that  I  stood  so  taken  aback — for  she  spoke  it  with 
meaning  and  a  sort  of  sting — that  for  a  minute  I  did  not 
answer  her.  Then,  "  Is  not  a  man's  life  as  much  to  him, 
as  a  woman's  is  to  her  ?  "  I  said  with  indignation, 

"A  man's!"  she  replied.  "  Aye,  but  not  a  mouse's! 
I  will  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Taylor,  or  Mr.  Price,  or  what- 
ever your  name  is " 

"'  Call  me  what  you  like!  "  I  said.     "  Only  let  me  go!  " 

"Then  I  will  call  you  Mr.  Craven!  "  she  retorted  bit- 
terly. "Or  Mr.  Daw  in  Peacock's  feathers.  And  let 
you  go.     Go,  go,  you  coward!     Go,  you  craven!  " 

It  was  not  the  most  gracious  permission,  and  stung  me; 
but  I  took  it  sullenly,  and  getting  away  from  her  went 
down  the  passage  towards  the  Strand,  leaving  her  there; 
not  gladly,  although  to  go  had  been  all  I  had  asked  a  mo- 
ment before.  No  man,  indeed,  could  have  more  firmly 
resolved  to  wrench  himself  from  the  grasp  of  the  gang 
whose  tool  this  little  spitfire  was;  nor  to  a  man  bred  to 
peaceful  pursuits  (as  I  had  been)  and  flung  into  such  an 
imbroglio  as  this — wherein  to  dance  on  nothing  seemed 
to  be  the  alternative  whichever  way  I  looked — was  it  a 
matter  of  so  much  consequence  to  be  called  coward  by  a 
child,  that  I  must  hesitate  for  that.  Add  to  this,  that 
the  place  and  time,  a  dingy  passage  on  a  dark  night  with 
rain  falling  and  a  chill  wind  blowing,  and  none  abroad 
but  such  as  honest  men  would  avoid,  were  not  incentives 
to  rashness  or  adventure. 

And  yet — and  yet  when  it  came  to  going,  nullis  ves- 
tigiis  retrorsum,  as  the  Latins  say,  I  j^iroved  to  be  either 
too  much  or  too  little  of  a  man,  these  arguments  not- 
withstanding; too  little  of  a  man  to  weigh  reason  Justly 
against  pride,  or  too  much  of  a  man  to  hear  with  phi- 


166  SHREWSBURY 

losophy  a  girl's  taunt.  Wheu  I  had  gone  fifty  yards,  there- 
fore, I  halted;  and  then  in  a  moment,  went  back.  Not 
slowly,  however,  but  in  a  gust  of  irritation;  so  that  for 
a  very  little  I  could  have  struck  the  girl  for  the  puling 
face  and  helplessness  that  gave  her  an  advantage  over  me. 
I  found  her  in  the  same  place,  and  asked  her  roughly 
what  she  wanted. 

"  A  man,"  she  said. 

"  Well,"  I  answered  sullenly,  "  what  is  it?  " 

"Have  I  found  one?  that  is  the  question,"  she  re- 
torted keenly.  And  at  that  again,  I  could  have  had  it 
in  my  heart  to  strike  her  across  her  scornful  face.  ' '  My 
uncle  is  at  least  a  man." 

"  He  is  a  bad  one,  curse  him!  "  I  cried  in  a  fury. 

She  looked  at  me  coolly.  "  That  is  better,"  she 
said.  "  If  your  deeds  were  of  a  piece  with  your  words 
you  would  be  no  man's  slave.  His  least  of  all,  Mr. 
Price!" 

"You  talk  finely,"  I  said,  my  passion  cooling,  as  I 
began  to  read  a  covert  meaning  in  her  tone  and  words, 
and  that  she  would  be  at  something.  "It  comes  well 
from  you,  who  do  his  errands  day  and  night!  " 

"Or  find  someone  to  do  them,"  she  answered  with 
derision. 

"  Well,  after  this  you  will  have  to  find  someone  else," 
I  cried,  warming  again. 

"Ah,  if  you  would  keep  your  word!  "  she  cried  in  a 
different  tone,  clapping  her  hands  softly,  and  peering  at 
me.     "  If  you  would  keep  your  word." 

Seeing  more  clearly  than  ever  that  she  would  be  at 
something,  and  wishing  to  know  what  it  was,  "  Try  me," 
I  said.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"It  is  plain,"  she  answered,  "what  I  mean.  Carry 
no  more  messages!  Be  sneak  and  spy  no  longer!  Cease 
to  put  your  head  in  a  noose  to  serve  rogues'  ends !  .  Have 
done,  man,  with  cringing  and  fawning,  and  trembling 


SHREWSBURY  167 

at  big  words.  Break  off  with  these  villains  who  hold  you, 
put  a  hundred  miles  between  you  and  them,  and  be  your- 
self!    Be  a  man!" 

' '  Why,  do  you  mean  your  uncle  ?  "  I  cried,  vastly  sur- 
prised. 

''Why  not?"  she  said. 

"  But — if  you  feel  that  way,  why  do  his  bidding  your- 
self ?  '-'  I  answered,  doubting  all  this  might  be  a  trap  of 
that  cunning  devil's.  "  If  I  sneak  and  spy,  who  spies 
on  me,  miss  ?  ' ' 

"I  do,"  she  said,  leaning  against  the  wall  of  Bedford 
Garden,  where  one  of  Heming's  new  lights,  set  up  at 
the  next  corner,  shone  full  on  her  face.  "  And  I  am 
weary  of  it. " 

"  But  if  you  are  weary  of  it " 

"If  I  am  weary  of  it,  why  don't  I  free  myself  instead 
of  preaching  to  you  ?  "  she  answered.  "  First,  because  I 
am  a  woman,  Mr.  Wiseman." 

"  I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  it,"  I  retorted. 

"  Don't  you?  "  she  answered  bitterly.  "  Then  I  will 
tell  you.  My  uncle  feeds  me,  clothes  me,  gives  me  a 
roof — and  sometimes  beats  me.  If  I  run  away  as  I  bid 
you  run  away,  where  shall  I  find  board  and  lodging,  or 
anything  but  the  beating?  A  man  comes  and  goes;  a 
woman,  if  she  has  not  someone  to  answer  for  her,  must 
to  the  Justice  and  then  to  the  Round-house  and  be  set  to 
beating  hemp;  and  her  shoulders  smarting  to  boot.  Can 
I  get  service  without  a  character?  " 

"No,"  I  said,  " that  is  true. " 

"  Or  travel  without  money  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Or  alone — except  to  Whetstone  Park  ?  " 

"No." 

"Well,  it  is  fine  to  be  a  man  then,"  she  answered, 
leaning  her  little  shawled  head  farther  and  farther  back 
against  the  wall,  and  slowly  moving  it  to  and  fro,  while 


168  SHREWSBURY 

she  looked  at  me  from  under  her  eyelashes,  "  for  he  can 
do  all.     And  take  a  woman  with  him." 

I  started  at  that,  and  stared  at  her,  and  saw  a  little 
colour  come  into  her  pale  face.  But  her  eyes,  far  from 
falling  under  my  gaze,  met  my  eyes  with  a  bold,  mis- 
chievous look;  that  gradually,  and  as  she  still  moved  her 
head  to  and  fro,  melted  into  a  smile. 

It  was  impossible  to  mistake  her  meaning,  and  I  felt 
a  thrill  run  through  me,  such  as  I  had  not  known  for 
ten  years.  "Oh,"  I  said  at  last,  and  awkwardly,  "I 
see  now." 

"  You  would  have  seen  long  ago  if  you  had  not  been 
a  fool,"  she  answered.  And  then,  as  if  to  excuse  herself 
she  added— but  this  I  did  not  understand — "  Not  that 
fine  feathers  make  fine  birds — I  am  not  such  a  fool  my- 
self, as  to  think  that.     But " 

"  But  what  ?  "  I  said,  my  face  warm. 

"  I  am  a  fool  all  the  same." 

Her  eyes  falling  with  that,  and  her  pale  face  growing 
to  a  deeper  colour,  I  had  no  doubt  of  the  main  thing, 
though  I  could  not  follow  her  precise  drift.  And  I  take 
it,  there  are  few  men  who,  upon  such  an  invitation,  how- 
ever veiled,  would  not  respond.  Accordingly  I  took  a 
step  towards  the  girl,  and  went,  though  clumsily,  to  put 
my  arm  round  her. 

But  she  pushed  me  off  with  a  vigour  that  surprised  me; 
and  she  mocked  me  with  a  face  between  mischief  and 
triumph;  a  face  that  was  more  like  a  mutinous  boy's  than 
a  girl's.  "Oh,  no,"  she  said.  "There  is  a  good  deal 
between  this  and  that,  Mr.  Price." 

"  How  ?  "  I  said  shamefacedly. 

"Do  you  go?"  she  asked  sharply.  "Is  it  settled? 
That  first  of  all,  if  you  please." 

As  to  the  going — somewhere — I  had  made  up  my  mind 
long  ago;  before  I  met  her,  or  went  into  the  Seven  Stars, 
or  knew  that  a  dozen  mad  topers  were  roaring  treason 


SHREWSBURY  169 

about  the  town,  and  bidding  fair  to  hang  us  all.  But 
being  of  a  cautious  temper,  and  seeing  conditions  which 
I  had  not  contemplated  added  to  the  bargain,  and  having 
besides  a  shrewd  idea  that  I  could  not  afterwards  with- 
draw, I  hesitated.     "  It  is  dangerous!  "  I  said. 

"I  will  tell  you  what  is  dangerous,"  she  answered, 
Avrathfully,  showing  her  little  white  teeth  as  she  flashed 
her  eyes  at  me,  "and  that  is  to  be  whei-e  we  are.  Do 
you  know  what  they  are  doing  there — in  that  house?" 
And  she  jiointed  towards  the  Market,  whence  we  had 
come. 

"No,"  I  said  reluctantly,  wishing  she  would  say  no 
more. 

"  Killing  the  King,"  she  answered  in  a  low  voice. 
"It  is  for  Saturday,  or  Saturday  week.  He  is  to  be 
stopped  in  his  coach  as  he  conies  from  hunting — in  the 
lane  between  Turnham  Green  and  the  river.  You  can 
count  their  chances.  They  are  merry  plotters!  And 
now — now,"  she  continued,  "do  you  know  where  you 
stand,  Mr.  Price,  and  whether  it  is  dangerous?  " 

"I  know" — I  said,  trembling  at  that  bloody  design, 
which  no  whit  surprised  me  since  everything  I  had  heard 
corroborated  it — "  I  know  what  I  have  to  do." 

"What?"  she  said. 

"  Uo  straight  to  the  Secretary's  office,"  I  said,  "and 
tell  him.     Tell  him!" 

"  You  won't  do  it,"  she  answered,  "  or,  at  least,  I 
won't." 

"  Why  ?  "  I  asked,  atremble  with  excitement. 

"  Why?  "  she  echoed,  mocking  me;  and  I  noticed  that 
not  only  were  her  eyes  bright,  but  her  lips  red.  "  Why, 
firstly,  Mr.  Price,  because  I  want  to  have  done  with  plots 
and  live  honestly;  and  that  is  not  to  be  done  on  blood- 
money.  And  secondly,  because  it  is  dangerous — as  you 
call  it.  Do  you  want  to  be  an  evidence,  set  up  for  all  to 
point  at,  and  six  months  after  to  be  decoyed  to  AVap- 


170  SHREWSBURY 

ping,  dropped  into  a  dark  hold,  and  carried  over  to 
France?" 

"  God  forbid!  "  I  said,  aghast  at  this  view  of  things. 

"Then  have  done  with  informing,"  she  answered, 
with  a  little  spurt  of  heat.  "Or  let  be,  at  any  rate, 
until  we  are  safe  ourselves  and  snug  in  the  country. 
Then  if  you  choose,  and  you  do  nothing  to  hurt  my  uncle 
— for  I  will  not  have  him  touched — we  may  talk  of  it. 
But  not  for  money." 

Those  words  "safe  and  snug,"  telling  of  a  prospect 
that  at  that  moment  seemed  of  all  others  the  most  desir- 
able in  the  world,  dwelt  so  lovingly  on  my  ear,  that  in 
place  of  hesitation  I  felt  only  eagerness  and  haste. 

"I  will  go!"  I  said. 

"  You  will  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered. 

"And " 

"  And  what  ?  "  I  said,  wondering. 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then,  "That  is  for  you 
to  say,"  she  replied,  lowering  her  eyes. 

It  is  possible  that  I  might  not  have  understood  her, 
even  then,  if  I  had  not  marked  her  face,  and  seen  that 
her  lips  were  quivering  with  a  sudden  shyness,  which 
words  and  manner  in  vain  belied.  She  blushed,  and 
trembled;  and,  lowering  her  eyes,  drew  forward  the  shawl 
that  covered  her  head,  the  street-urchin  gone  out  of  her. 
And  I,  seeing  and  understanding,  had  other  and  new 
thoughts  of  her  which  remained  with  me.  "If  you 
mean  that,"  I  said,  clumsily,  "  I  will  make  you  my  wife 
— if  you  will  let  me." 

"  Well,  we'll  see  about  it,  when  we  get  to  Eomford," 
she  answered,  looking  nervously  aside,  and  plucking  at 
the  fringe  of  the  shawl.  "'  We  have  to  escape  first.  And 
now — listen,"  she  continued,  rapidly,  and  in  her  ordi- 
nary voice.  "  My  uncle  is  removing  to-morrow  to  an- 
other hiding-place,  and  I  go  first  with  some  clothes  and 


SHREWSBURY  171 

baggage.  He  will  not  flit  himself  till  it  is  dark.  Do 
you  put  your  trunk  outside  your  door,  and  I  will  take  it 
and  send  it  by  the  Chelmsford  waggon.  At  noon  meet  me 
at  Clerkenwell  Gate,  and  we  will  walk  to  Romford  and 
hide  there  until  we  know  how  things  are  going." 

'' Why  Romford  ?"  I  said. 

"  Why  anywhere?  "  she  answered,  impatiently. 

That  was  true  enough;  and  seeing  in  what  mood  she 
was,  and  that  out  of  sheer  contrariness  she  was  inclined 
to  be  the  more  shrewish  now,  because  she  had  melted  to 
me  a  moment  before,  I  refrained  from  asking  farther  ques- 
tions; listening  instead  to  her  minute  directions,  Avhich 
were  given  with  as  much  clearness  and  perspicuity  as  if 
she  had  dwelt  on  this  escape  for  a  twelvemonth  past.  It 
was  plain,  indeed,  that  she  had  not  fetched  and  carried 
for  the  famous  Ferguson  for  nothing;  nor  watched  his 
methods  to  little  purj)ose.  Nor  was  this  all:  mingled 
Avitli  this  display  of  precocious  skill  there  constantly 
appeared  a  touch  of  malice  and  mischief,  more  natural 
in  a  boy  than  a  girl,  and  seldom  found  even  in  boys, 
where  the  gutter  has  not  served  for  a  school.  And  through 
this  again,  as  through  the  folds  of  a  shifting  gauze, 
appeared  that  which  gradually  and  as  I  listened  took  more 
and  more  a  hold  on  me — the  woman. 

Yet  I  supjiose  that  there  never  was  a  stranger  love- 
making  in  the  world ;  if  love-making  that  could  be  called 
wherein  one  at  least  of  us  had  in  mind  ten  thoughts  of 
fear  and  death  for  one  of  happiness  or  love;  and  a  pulse 
attuned  rather  to  the  dreary  driji  of  the  wet  eaves  about 
us,  and  the  monotonous  yelp  of  a  cur  chained  among 
the  stalls,  than  to  the  flutter  of  desire. 

And  yet,  when,  our  plan  agreed  upon,  and  the  details 
settled,  we  turned  homewards  and  went  together  through 
the  streets,  I  could  not  refrain  from  glancing  at  my  com- 
panion from  time  to  time,  in  doubt  and  almost  incredu- 
lity.    When  the  dream  refused  to  melt,  when  I  found  her 


172  SHREWSBURY 

still  moving  at  my  elbow,  her  small  shawled  head  on  a 
level  with  my  shoulder — when,  I  say,  I  found  her  so,  not 
love,  but  a  sense  of  companionship  and  a  feeling  of  gratu- 
latiou  that  I  was  no  longer  alone,  stole  for  the  first  time 
into  my  mind  and  comforted  me.  I  had  gone  so  many 
years  through  these  streets  solus  ei  caelebs,  that  I  pricked 
my  ears  and  pinched  myself  in  sheer  astonishment  at 
finding  another  beside  me  and  other  feet  keeping  time 
with  mine;  nor  knew  whether  to  be  more  confounded  or 
relieved  by  the  thought  that  of  all  persons'  interests  her 
interests  marched  with  mine. 


CHAPTER  XX 

The  clocks  had  gone  midnight,  when  I  parted  from 
Mary  at  the  door  of  the  house  and  groped  my  way  up- 
stairs to  my  room;  where,  throwing  off  my  clothes  I  lay 
down,  not  to  sleep,  but  to  resolve  endlessly  and  futilely 
the  plans  we  had  made,  and  the  risks  we  ran  and  the 
thousand  issues  that  might  come  of  either.  Cogitation 
brought  me  no  nearer  to  a  knowledge  of  the  event,  but 
only  heated  my  brain  and  increased  my  impatience;  the 
latter  to  such  a  degree  that  with  the  first  light  I  was  np 
and  moving,  and  had  my  trunk  packed.  Nor  did  I  fail 
to  note  the  strange  and  almost  incredible  turn  which  now 
led  me  to  look  for  support  in  my  flight  to  the  very  person 
whose  ominous  entrance  twenty-four  hours  earlier  had 
forced  me  to  lay  aside  the  thought. 

Long  before  it  could  by  any  chance  be  necessary  I 
opened  my  door,  and  softly  carrying  out  my  box,  placed 
it  in  a  dark  corner  on  the  landing.  After  this  a  great 
interval  elapsed,  during  which  I  conjured  up  a  hundred 
mischances.     At  length  I  heard  someone  afoot  opposite; 


SHRE  WSB  UR  Y  1 73 

and  then  the  stumbling  tread  of  a  porter  carrying  goods 
down  the  stairs.  About  eleven  I  ventured  to  peep  out, 
and  learned  with  satisfaction  that  the  trunk  had  van- 
ished; it  remained  therefore  for  me  to  do  the  same. 
Bestowing  a  last  look  on  the  little  attic  which  had  been 
my  home  so  long,  and  until  lately  no  unhappy  home,  I 
took  up  my  hat  and  cloak;  and  making  sure  for  the  fif- 
tieth time  that  I  had  my  small  stock  of  money,  hidden 
in  my  clothes,  I  opened  the  door,  and  stealing  out,  stood 
a  minute  to  listen  before  I  descended. 

I  heard  nothing  to  alarm  me;  yet  a  second  later  I 
shrieked  in  affright,  and  almost  sank  down  under  the 
sudden  grip  of  a  hand  on  my  shoulder.  The  hand  was 
Ferguson's;  who  listening,  at  my  chamber  door,  had 
heard  me  move  towards  it,  and  flattened  himself  against 
the  wall  beside  it;  and  so,  being  in  the  dark  corner  far- 
thest from  the  staircase,  had  eluded  my  notice.  He 
chuckled  vastly,  at  his  cunning,  and  the  fright  he 
had  given  me,  and  rocking  me  to  and  fro,  asked  me 
grimly  what  I  had  done  with  my  fine  clothes  and  my 
wig. 

"Ay,  and  that  is  not  all,"  he  continued.  "I  shall 
want  to  know  a  little  more  about  that  matter,  my  friend. 
And  mind  you,  Mr.  Price,  the  truth!  The  truth,  or  I 
will  wring  this  tender  ear  of  yours  from  your  head.  For 
the  jiresent,  however,  that  matter  may  wait.  I  shall  have 
it,  when  I  want  it.  Now  I  have  other  work  for  you. 
Come  into  my  room." 

"  I  am  going  to  the  tavern,"  I  said  desperately.  And 
I  hung  back.     "  Afterwards,  Mr.  Ferguson,  I  will " 

"Oh,  to  the  tavern,"  he  answered,  mimicking  me. 
"And  for  what?" 

"  My  dinner,"  I  faltered. 

He  burst  into  a  volley  of  oaths,  and  seizing  me  again 
by  the  shoulder  ran  me  into  his  room.  "  Your  dinner, 
indeed,  you  dirty,  low-born  pedlar,"  he  cried  in  a  fury. 


174  SHREWSBURY 

"  Who  are  you  to  dine  at  taverns  when  the  King's  busi- 
ness wants  you  ?  Stand  you  there,  and  listen  to  me,  or 
by  the  God  above  me,  you  shall  never  take  meat  or  drink 
again.  Do  you  see  this,  you  craven?"  and  he  plucked 
out  his  horrible  horse  pistol,  and  flourished  the  muzzle  in 
my  face.  "  Mark  it,  and  remember  that  I  am  Ferguson, 
the  famous  Ferguson,  Ferguson  the  plotter,  and  no  little 
person  to  be  thwarted!     And  now  listen  to  me." 

I  could  have  wept  with  rage  and  despair,  knowing  that 
with  every  moment  this  wretch  kept  me,  my  chance  of 
fulfilling  the  appointment  at  Clerkenwell  Gate  was  pass- 
ing; and  that  if  he  detained  me  only  one  half  hour 
longer,  I  must  be  late.  To  the  pistol,  however,  and  his 
scowling,  truculent,  blotched  face  that  lacking  the  wig, 
Avhich  hung  on  a  chair  beside  him,  was  one  degree  more 
ugly  than  its  wont,  there  was  no  answer;  and  I  said  sul- 
lenly that  I  would  listen. 

"You  had  better,"  he  answered.  "Mark  you,  there 
is  a  gentleman  coming  to  see  me;  and  to  his  coming  and 
to  what  he  says  to  me  I  will  have  a  witness.     You  follow 


me?" 


"Yes,"  I  said,  looking  round,  but  in  vain,  for  a  way 
of  escape. 

"And  you  are  the  witness.  You  shall  go  into  that 
room,  mark  yon,  and  you  shall  be  as  mute  as  a  mouse! 
I  put  this  little  cupboard  open,  the  back  is  thin  and 
there  is  a  crack  in  it;  set  your  eye  to  that  and  you  will 
see  him.  And  look  you,  listen  to  every  word,  and  note 
it;  and  keep  still — keep  still,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for 
you,  Mr.  Price!  " 

"  Very  well,"  I  said  obediently;  hope  springing  up,  as 
I  thought  I  saw  a  way  of  escape.  "  And  what  time  must 
I  be  here?  " 

"You  are  here,  and  you  will  stay  here,"  he  answered 
dashing  to  the  ground  the  scarce-born  plan.  "  Why, 
man,  he  may  come  any  minute." 


SHREWSBURY  175 

"Still — if   I   could  go  out  for — for  two  minutes,"  I 

•>■> 


persisted.     "  I  should  be  easier. 

"  Go  out!  Go  out  !  "  he  cried,  interrupting  me  in  a 
fury.  "And  dinners?  And  taverns?  And  you  would 
be  easier!  D'ye  know,  Mr.  Price,  I  have  my  doubts 
about  you!  Ay,  I  have!"  he  continued,  leering  at  me 
with  his  big,  cunning  eyes;  and  now  thrusting  his  face 
close  to  mine,  now  drawing  it  back  again.  "  Are  you  for 
selling  us,  I  wonder  ?  Mind  you,  if  that  is  your  thought, 
two  can  play  at  that  game,  and  I  have  writing  of  yours. 
Ay,  I  have  writing  of  yours,  Mr.  Price,  and  for  twojoence 
I  would  send  it  where  it  will  hang  you.  So  be  careful. 
Be  careful  or — give  me  that  coat." 

Wishing  that  I  had  the  courage  to  strike  him  in  the 
back,  praying  that  the  next  word  he  said  might  choke 
him,  hating  him  with  a  dumb  hatred,  the  blacker  for  its 
impotence,  and  for  the  menial  services  he  made  me  do 
him,  I  gave  him  the  long-skirted  plum-coloured  coat  to 
which  he  pointed,  and  saw  him  clothe  his  lank  ungainly 
figure  in  it,  and  top  all  with  his  freshly  curled  wig.  He 
bade  me  tie  his  points  and  fasten  on  his  sword;  and  this 
being  done  to  his  liking — and  he  was  not  very  easy  to 
please — he  pulled  down  his  ruffles,  and  walked  to  and  fro, 
preening  himself  and  looking  a  hundred  times  more  ugly 
and  loathsome  for  the  finery,  with  which,  for  the  first 
time,  I  saw  him  bedizened. 

Preparations  so  unusual,  by  awakening  my  curiosity  as 
to  the  visitor  in  whose  honour  they  were  made,  diverted 
me  from  my  own  troubles;  to  which  I  had  done  no  more 
than  return  when  a  knock  came  at  the  outer  door.  Fer- 
guson, in  a  flush  of  exultation  that  Avent  far  to  show  that 
he  had  entertained  doubts  of  the  visitor's  coming,  thrust 
me  into  the  next  room ;  a  mere  closet,  ill-lighted  by  one 
small  window,  and  bare,  save  for  a  bed-frame.  Here 
he  placed  me  beside  the  crack  he  had  mentioned;  and 
whispering  in  my  ear  the  most  fearful  threats  and  objur- 


1 76  SERE  WSB  UR  Y 

gations  in  case  I  moved,  or  proved  false  to  him,  he  cast  a 
last  look  round  to  assure  himself  that  all  was  right;  then 
he  went  back  into  his  own  apartment,  where  through  my 
Judas-hole  I  saw  him  pause.  The  girl's  departure  with 
the  luggage  had  left  the  room  but  meagrely  furnished; 
whether  this  and  the  effect  it  might  have  on  his  visitor's 
mind  struck  him,  or  he  began  at  the  last  moment  to 
doLibt  the  prudence  of  his  enterprise,  he  stood  awhile  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor  gnawing  his  nails,  and  listening, 
or  perhaps  thinking.  The  drift  of  his  reflections,  how- 
ever, was  soon  made  clear;  for  on  the  visitor's  impa- 
tiently repeating  his  summons,  he  moved  stealthily  to 
one  of  the  windows — which  being  set  in  the  mode  of 
garret  windows,  deep  in  the  slope  of  the  roof,  gave  little 
light — and  by  piling  his  cloak  in  a  heap  on  the  sill,  he 
contrived  to  obscure  some  of  that  little.  This  done,  and 
crying  softly  "  Coming!  Coming!  "  he  hastened  to  the 
door  and  opened  it,  bowing  and  scraping  with  an  immense 
show  of  humility. 

The  man,  who  had  knocked,  and  who  walked  in  with 
an  impatient  step  as  if  the  waiting  had  been  little  to  his 
taste,  was  tall  and  slight;  for  the  rest,  a  cloak,  and  a  hat 
flapping  low  over  his  face,  hid  both  features  and  complex- 
ion. I  noticed  that  Ferguson  bowed  again  and  humbly, 
but  did  not  addi'ess  him;  and  that  the  gentleman  also 
kept  silence  until  he  had  seen  the  door  secured  behind 
him.  Then,  and  as  his  host  with  seeming  clumsiness, 
brushed  past  him  and  so  secured  a  position  with  his  back 
to  the  light,  he  asked  sharply,  "  Where  is  he  ?  " 

The  plotter  leant  his  hands  on  the  back  of  the  chair 
and  paused  an  instant  before  he  answered.  When  he  did 
he  spoke  with  less  assurance  than  I  had  ever  heard  him 
speak  before;  he  even  stammered  a  little.  "Your 
Grace,"  he  said,  "has  come  to  see  a  person — who — who 
wrote  to  you  ?     From  this  house  ?  " 

"I  have.     Where  is  he?" 


SHREWSBURY  177 

"Here." 

"Here?  But  where,  man,  where?"  the  newcomer 
replied,  looking  quickly  round. 

Still  Ferguson  did  not  move.  "  My  lord  Duke,  you 
came  here,  in  a  word — to  see  Lord  Middleton?  "  he  said. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  visitor's  gorge  rose  at  the 
other's  manner,  no  less  than  at  this  naming  of  names. 
But  with  an  effort  he  swallowed  his  chagrin.  "If  you 
know  that,  you  know  all,"  he  answered  with  composure. 
"  So  without  more,  take  me  to  him.  But  I  may  as  well 
say,  sir,  since  you  seem  to  be  in  his  confidence " 

"  It  was  my  hand  wrote  the  letter." 

"Was  it  so?  Then  you  should  know,  sir,  that  a  mad- 
der and  more  foolish  thing  was  never  done!  If  my  Lord. 
Middleton,"  the  stranger  continued  coldly,  his  tone  in- 
clining to  sarcasm  rather  than  to  feeling,  "desired  to 
ruin  his  best  friend  and  the  one  most  able  to  save  him  in 
a  certain  event — if  he  meant  to  requite,  sir,  one  who  has 
already  suffered  more  than  was  reasonable  in  his  service, 
by  consigning  him  to  his  destruction,  he  did  well.  Other- 
wise he  was  mad.  Mad,  or  worse,  to  send  such  a  letter 
to  a  place  where  he  must  know  of  his  own  knowledge 
that  nine  letters  out  of  ten  are  opened  by  others'  hands!  " 

"Your  Grace  is  right,"  Ferguson  answered  drily,  and 
in  his  natural  voice;  at  the  sound  of  which,  either 
because  of  its  native  harshness  or  because  it  touched 
some  chord  in  his  memory,  the  other  started.  "  But  the 
fact  is,"  the  plotter  continued  hardily,  and  with  a  smack 
of  impertinence,  "  my  Lord  Middleton,  so  far  as  I  know, 
is  still  wdth  the  King  at  St.  Germain's." 

"  At  St.  Germain's  ?  "  the  stranger  cried.  "  With  the 
King?" 

"  Yes,  and  to  be  candid,"  Ferguson  answered,  "  I  was 
not  aware,  my  lord,  that  you  had  sent  him  a  safe  con- 
duct." 

"You  villain!  "  the  Duke  cried,  and  stepped  forward; 
12 


178  SHREWSBURY 

his  rage  excited  as  much  by  the  man's  manner  as  by  the 
trick  which  had  been  played  him.  "  How  dared  you  say, 
then,  that  he  was  here  ?  "  he  continued.  "  Answer,  fel- 
loM',  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

"I  said  only,  your  Grace,"  Ferguson  replied,  retreat- 
ing a  step,  "  that  the  writer  of  the  letter  was  here." 

For  a  moment  the  Duke,  utterly  dumfounded  by  this, 
stood  looking  at  him.  "And  you  are  he?"  he  said  at 
last,  with  chilling  scorn,  "and  the  author  of  this — 
plot!" 

"And  of  many  plots  besides,"  my  master  auswered 
jauntily.  And  then,  "  My  lord,  do  you  not  know  me 
yet?"  he  cried. 

"Not  I!  Stand  out,  sir,  and  let  me  see  your  face. 
Then  perhaps,  if  we  have  met  before " 

"  Oh,  we  have  met  before!  "  was  the  quick  and  impu- 
dent answer.  "I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  face.  It  has 
been  known  in  its  time.  But  fair  play  is  a  jewel,  my 
lord.  It  is  eight  years  since  I  saw  3^our  Grace  last,  and  I 
have  a  fancy  to  learn  if  you  are  changed.  Will  you  oblige 
me?     If  you  would  see  my  face,  show  me  yours!  " 

With  a  gesture  between  contempt  and  impatience  the 
Duke  removed  the  hat,  which  at  his  entrance  he  had 
merely  touched;  and  hastily  lowering  the  cloak  from  his 
neck,  confronted  his  opponent. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

It  cannot  at  this  time  of  day  be  needful  for  me  to  de- 
scribe in  detail  the  aspect  of  those  features  which  the 
action  disclosed,  since  they  are  as  well  remembered  by 
many  still  living  as  they  are  faithfully  preserved  for 
posterity — lacking  some  of  the  glow  and  passion  which 


WITH   A   GESTURE   BETWEEN   CONTEMPT   AND   IMPATIENCE 
THE   DUKE   REMOVED   HIS   HAT 


SHREWSBURY  181 

then  animated  them — on  the  canvas  by  Sir  Peter  Lely, 
whicli  hangs  in  the  Charterhouse.  The  Duke  of  Shrews- 
bury— to  set  conceahiient  aside — was  then  in  his  thirty- 
sixth  year,  in  the  prime  and  bloom  of  manhood,  of  a 
fair  complexion  and  regular  features;  over  which  the  habi- 
tude of  high  rank  and  the  possession  of  unrivalled  parts 
threw  a  cast  of  reserve  and  stateliness,  not  unbecoming. 
As  he.  was  by  nature  so  sensitive  that  on  this  side  alone 
his  enemies  found  him  vulnerable,  so  his  face  in  repose, 
if  it  had  any  blemish  at  all,  had  the  fault  of  bordering 
on  the  womanish,  the  lines  of  his  mouth  following  those 
of  the  choicest  models  of  antiquity.  But  this  blemish — 
if  that  which  bore  witness  to  the  most  affectionate  dispo- 
sition in  the  world  could  be  called  by  that  name — was 
little  marked  in  public  life,  the  awe  which  his  eyes, 
alike  firm  and  penetrating,  inspired  in  the  vulgar,  ren- 
dering most  people  blind  to  it.  To  sum  up,  his  face 
gave  a  just  idea  of  his  character;  for  though  indolent, 
he  was  of  such  a  temper  that  the  greatest  dared  take  no 
liberty  with  him ;  and  though  proud  he  gave  the  meanest 
his  rights  and  a  place. 

Such,  in  fine,  was  the  man  who  now  confronted  Fer- 
guson, and  with  a  stern  light  in  his  eye  bade  the  schemer 
stand  out.  That  the  latter  from  the  first  had  intended  to 
declare  himself,  was  as  certain  as  that,  now  the  time  had 
come,  he  hesitated;  awed  by  the  mere  power  of  worth, 
as  I  have  heard  that  wicked  men  calling  up  spirits  from 
the  deep  have  stood  affrighted  before  the  very  beings 
they  have  summoned.  Yet  his  hesitation  was  for  a  mo- 
ment only;  after  which,  rallying  the  native  audacity  of 
a  temperament  which  rejoiced  in  these  intrigues  and  de- 
nouements, he  stepped  jauntily  forward,  and  assuming 
sucli  a  parody  of  dignity  as  likened  his  clumsy  figure 
and  sneaking  face  to  nothing  so  much  as  an  ape  decked 
out  in  man's  clothes,  he  allowed  the  light  to  fall  on  his 
features. 


183  SHREWSBURY 

The  Duke  looked,  and  even  where  I  stood  behind  the 
lath  and  plaster  partition  I  heard  him  catch  his  breath. 
"  Yon  are  Robert  Ferguson!  "  he  said. 

"Well  guessed!"  the  plotter  answered,  with  a  harsh 
discordant  laugh.  ''Your  Grace  has  not  forgotten  '88. 
Believe  me,  if  the  Prince  of  Orange  had  kept  as  good  a 
memory,  I  should  not  have  been  in  this  garret,  nor  need 
I  have  troubled  your  lordship  to  visit  me  in  it." 

"  It  would  have  been  better  for  you,  sir,  had  you  still  re- 
frained," the  Duke  answered  with  severity.  "Mr.  Fer- 
guson, I  tell  you  at  once  that  I  do  not  bear  his  Majesty's 
Commission  in  vain,  and  my  first  proceeding  on  leaving 
this  house  will  be  to  sign  a  warrant  for  your  apprehen- 
sion, and  direct  the  officers  where  it  can  be  executed." 

"And  I,  my  lord,"  Ferguson  answered  with  an  impu- 
dent attempt  at  pleasantry,  "have  a  very  good  mind  to 
take  you  at  your  word,  and  let  you  go  to  do  it.  For 
when  your  ofiicers  arrived  they  would  not  find  me,  while 
your  Grace  would  go  hence  to  fall  into  as  pretty  a  trap  as 
was  ever  laid  for  a  man." 

"Doubtless,  then,  of  your  laying!"  my  lord  cried, 
with  a  gesture  of  contempt. 

"  On  the  contrary.  Until  I  saw  you,  I  knew  of  the  trap 
indeed,  but  not  for  whom  it  was  intended.  Since  I  have 
seen  you,  however— and  how  greatly  you  have  improved 
since  '88,  when  we  last  met" — Ferguson  added,  imper- 
tinently,— "  my  eyes  are  opened,  and  I  feel  a  very  sincere 
pity  for  your  lordship." 

"I  am  obliged  to  you  for  your  warning,"  the  Duke 
answered,  drily,  "and  will  endeavour  to  take  care  of 
myself.  If  that  be  all,  therefore,  that  you  have  to  say 
to  me— and  I  assume  that  the  letter  in  Lord  Middleton's 
name  was  no  more  than  a  ruse — I  will  say  good-day." 

"But  that  is  not  all,  nor  a  part!  "  Ferguson  replied. 
"I  have  a  bargain  to  propose,  and  information  "—this 
sullenly  and  with  lowered  eyes — "  to  give." 


SHREWSBURY  183 

"As  usual!  "  my  lord  answered,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders, and  speaking  with  the  most  cutting  scorn.  "But 
permit  me  to  say  that  you  have  made  a  mistake,  Mr,  Fer- 
guson, in  sending  for  me.  You  should  know  by  this 
time,  being  versed  in  these  affairs,  that  I  leave  such  bar- 
gains to  underlings," 

"Nevertheless,  to  this  bargain  you  must  be  a  party," 
the  other  answered  violently.  "Nay,  my  lord,  I  can 
make  you  a  party,  I  have  only  to  tell  you  a  thing  I 
know;  and  whether  you  will  or  no,  for  your  own  safety 
you  must  do  what  I  ask." 

"  For  my  own  safety,  Mr,  Ferguson,  I  am  not  in  the 
habit  of  doing  anything  I  would  not  do  for  other  rea- 
sons," the  Duke  answered  coldly.  "For  the  rest,  if 
you  have  anything  to  tell  me  that  concerns  the  King's 
service ' ' 

"  Which  King's?  "  the  jalotter  cried,  with  a  sneer. 

"  I  acknowledge  one  only — then,  I  say,  I  will  hear  it. 
But  I  will  neither  do  nor  promise  anything  in  return." 

"  You  talk  finely,"  Ferguson  cried,  "yet  you  cannot 
deny  that  before  this  I  have  told  things  that  were  worth 
knowing." 

"That  were  worth  men's  lives!"  my  lord  answered, 
speaking  in  a  low  stern  voice,  and  looking  at  him  with  a 
strange  abhorrence.  "  Yes,  Mr.  Ferguson,  I  acknowledge 
that.  That  were  worth  men's  lives.  And  it  reminds  me 
that  you  are  growing  old,  and  have  blood  on  your  hands; 
you  only  and  God  know  how  much.  But  some  I  know; 
the  proof  of  it  lies  in  my  office.  If  you  will  take  my 
advice,  therefore,  you  will  think  rather  of  quitting  the 
world  and  making  your  peace  with  heaven — if  by  any 
means  it  can  be  done — than  of  digging  j^its  for  better 
men  than  yourself.  Man,"  he  continued,  looking  fix- 
edly at  him,  "do  you  never  think  of  Ayloffe  and  Sid- 
ney? And  Russell?  And  Monmouth  ?  And  Cornish  ? 
Of  the  men  you  have  egged  on  to  death,  and  the  men  you 


184  SHREWSBURY 

have — sold!  God  forgive  you!  God  forgive  you,  for 
man  never  will!  " 

I  should  fail,  and  lamentably,  were  I  to  try  to  describe 
either  tlie  stern  feeling  with  which  my  lord  uttered  this 
solemn  address — the  more  solemn  as  it  came  from  a  young 
man  to  an  old  one — or  the  horrid  passion  born  of  rage, 
fear,  and  remorse  commingled,  with  which  the  intriguer 
received  it.  When  my  lord  had  ceased  to  speak,  Fer- 
guson broke  into  the  most  fearful  imprecations;  calling 
down  vengeance  not  only  on  others  for  wrongs  done  to 
him,  but  on  his  own  head  if  he  had  ever  done  aught  but 
what  was  right;  and  this  rant  he  so  sprinkled  with  texts 
of  scripture  and  scraps  of  the  old  Covenanters'  language 
that  for  profanity  and  blasphemy  I  never  heard  the  like. 
The  Duke,  after  watching  the  exhibition  for  a  time  with 
e3'es  of  pity  and  reprobation,  ended  by  setting  on  his 
hat  and  turning  to  the  door.  This  sufficed — as  nothing 
else  would  have — to  bring  the  conspirator  to  his  senses. 
With  a  hideous  chuckle,  which  brought  his  tirade  to  a 
fitting  conclusion,  ''  Not  so  fast,  my  lord!  Not  so  fast," 
he  cried,  slapping  his  pocket.  "The  key  is  here.  I 
have  something  to  say  before  you  go." 

"In  God's  name  say  it  then!"  the  Duke  cried,  his 
face  sick  with  disgust. 

"  I  will!  "  Ferguson  answered  hoarsely,  leaning  on  the 
table  which  stood  between  them  and  thrusting  forward 
his  chin,  his  face  still  suffused  with  rage.  "  And  see  you 
how  I  will  confound  you!  The  Duke  of  Berwick  is  in 
England.  The  Duke  of  Berwick  is  in  London.  And 
what  is  worse  for  you,  my  lord,  he  lies  to-night  at  Dr. 
Lloyd's  in  Hogsden  Gardens.  So  take  that  information 
to  yourself,  my  Lord  Secretary,  and  make  what  you  can 
of  it — not  forgetting  the  King's  interest!  Ha!  ha!  I 
have  you  tight  there,  I  think." 

His  triumph,  extreme  and  offensive  as  it  was,  seemed  to 
be  justified  by  the  consternation — I  can  call  it  by  no  other 


SHREWSBURY  185 

name — which  darkened  the  Duke's  countenance  as  he  lis- 
tened, and  hekl  him  a  moment  speechless  and  motionless, 
glaring  at  the  other.  At  last,  "And  you  sent  to  me  to 
tell  me  this  ?  "  he  cried. 

"I  did!  I  did!  There  is  no  other  living  man  would 
have  thought  of  it  or  done  it.  And  why?  Because 
there  is  no  man  can  play  my  cards  but  myself." 

"  You  devil!  "  my  lord  cried;  and  was  silent. 

Seeing  that  I  knew  little  more  of  this  of  which  they 
spoke  than  that  the  Duke  of  Berwick  was  King  James' 
natural  son  and  favourite,  I  was  at  a  loss  to  comprehend, 
either  the  Duke's  chagrin  or  Ferguson's  very  evident 
triumph.  The  hitter's  next  words,  however,  went  far 
towards  explaining  his  jubilation;  and  if  they  did  not 
perfectly  clear  up  my  lord's  position — fully  to  enter  into 
which  required  a  nobility  of  sentiment  and  a  nicety  of 
honour  on  a  par  with  his  own — they  enabled  me  to  guess 
where  the  shoe  pinched. 

"D'ye  take  me  now,  my  lord?"  the  plotter  cried, 
with  a  savage  grimace.  "  That  concerns  the  King's  ser- 
vice I  think;  and  yet — I  dare  you  to  make  use  of  it. 
Ay,  my  Lord  Secretary,  I  dare  you  to  make  use  of  it!  " 
he  repeated,  his  unwholesome  face  deep  red  with  excite- 
ment. "For  why?  Because  you  know  that  there  will 
be  a  day  of  reckoning  presently — and  sooner,  mayhap, 
than  some  think.  You  know  that.  Sooner  or  later  it  will 
come — it  will  come,  and  then  '  Touch  not  mine  anointed ! ' 
Or  rather,  touch  but  a  hair  of  his  Jamie's  head,  and  his 
Majesty'll  no  forgive!  He'll  no  forgive!  There  will  be 
mercy  for  my  Lord  Devonshire,  and  my  Lord  Admiral, 
ay,  and  for  that  incarnate  liar  and  devil,  John  Churchill ! 
Ay,  even  for  him,  for  he  has  made  all  safe  both  sides  and 
so  have  the  others.  But  do  you  touch  the  King's 
blood,  though  it  be  bastard — do  you  send  to-night  to  the 
Bishop's  and  take  him,  and  go  on  to  what  follows — and 
you  may  kneel  like  Monmouth,  and  plead  like  my  Lady 


186  SHREWSBURY 

Eussell,  and  you'll  to  the  axe  and  the  sawdust,  when  the 
time  comes!     Ay,  you  will!  you  will!  you  will!  " 

Though  his  harsh  voice  rose  almost  to  a  shriek  with  the 
last  words,  and  the  room  rang  with  them,  the  Duke  stood 
mutely  regarding  him,  and  made  no  answer.  After  an 
interval,  Ferguson  himself  went  on,  but  in  a  lower  tone. 
"That  is  the  one  course  you  may  take,  my  lord,"  he 
said,  "and  the  result  of  it!  If  you  follow  my  advice, 
however,  you  will  not  adopt  that  course.  Instead  you 
will  let  FitzJames  be.  You  will  act  as  if  you  had  not 
seen  me  to-day,  nor  heard  that  he  was  in  London.  You'll 
wipe  this  meeting  from  your  memory  and  live  as  if  it 
had  not  been.  And  so,  at  the  Eestoration,  you  will  have 
nothing  to  fear  on  that  head.  But — but  in  the  mean- 
time," Ferguson  continued  with  an  ugly  grin,  "  it  may 
be  the  worse  for  your  Grace  if  the  truth,  and  your  knowl- 
edge of  the  truth,  come  to  the  Prince's  ears,  whose 
Minister  you  are;  and  worse  again  if  it  comes  to  Ben- 
tinck's,  who,  I  am  told,  is  some  trouble  to  your  Grace 
already." 

The  Duke's  face  was  a  picture.  "  You  villain !"  he 
said  again.     "  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  For  my  silence  ?  " 

"  For  your  silence  ?  No.  What  is  your  aim  ?  What 
is  your  object  ?  You  betray  one  and  the  other.  The  son 
of  your  King  to  prison  and  death.  Me,  if  you  can,  to 
ruin  and  shame.  And  why  ?  Why,  man  ?  What  do  you 
?" 

"What  do  I  gain?  What  shall  I  gain,  you  mean," 
Ferguson  answered,  smiling  cunningly.  "  Only  your 
Grace's  signature  to  a  scrap  of  paper — give  me  that,  and 
I  am  mum,  and  neither  Berwick  nor  you  will  be  a  penny 
the  worse." 

"What,  money?"  cried  my  lord,  surprised,  I  think. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  money,"  said  the  plotter  coolly.  "  And 
yet — it  may  be  money's  worth  to  me  over  there.' 


gam 


■)■) 


SHREWSBURY  187 


CHAPTER  XXII 


"  It  is  this  way,  my  lord,"  he  continued  after  a  pause. 
"  Lord  Middleton  said  some  things  over  there  in  your 
Grace's  name — that  woukl  be  four  years  back;  but  you 
never  acted  on  them,  though  it  was  whispered  you  paid 
dearly  for  them  here.  In  the  interval  it  has  been  the  aim 
of  a  good  many  to  get  something  more  definite  from  your 
Grace;  the  rather  as  you  stand  almost  alone,  the  main 
part  of  the  Court,  and  more  than  you  know,  having  made 
their  peace.  But  tiie  efforts  of  those  iiersons  failed  with 
your  Grace  because  they  went  about  it  in  the  wrong  way. 
Now,  I,  Eobert  Ferguson,"  the  plotter  continued,  pat- 
ting himself  on  the  chest,  and  bowing  with  grotesque 
conceit,  "have  gone  about  it  in  the  right  Avay;  and  I 
shall  not  fail.  The  position  is  this.  You  must  either 
arrest  the  Duke  of  Berwick,  or  you  must  let  him  go. 
That  is  clear.  If  you  do  the  former,  you  offend  beyond 
pardon,  and  your  head  will  fall  at  the  Restoration,  who- 
ever goes  clear.  On  the  other  hand,  if  you  let  the  Duke 
escape  and  it  comes  to  the  Prince  of  Orange's  ears  that 
you  knew  of  his  presence,  you  will  be  ruined  with  your 
present  party.  The  only  course  left  to  you,  therefore,  is 
to  let  him  go,  but  to  purchase  my  silence — that  it  may 
not  reach  the  Prince's  ears — by  signing  a  few  words  on 
a  paper,  wliich  shall  be  sealed  here,  and  opened  only  by 
His  Majesty  in  his  closet.  Now,  my  lord,  what  do  you 
say  to  that?  " 

"That  you  are  a  fool  as  Avell  as  a  knave!"  was  the 
Duke's  unexpected  reply.  He  had  recovered  his  equa- 
nimity, and  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  as  he  spoke. 

The  plotter's  eyes  sparkled.  "Why?"  he  cried  with 
an  oath.     "  And  is  that  language  for  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"A  gentleman?     Faugh!"  cried    my    lord.     "And 


188  SHRE  WSB  UR  Y 

why  ?  Because  you  suppose  your  word  to  be  of  value. 
Whereas  you  should  kuow  that  were  you  to  go  to  Ken- 
sington and  tell  the  King  that  you  had  informed  me  of 
this  or  that  or  the  other,  and  were  I  to  deny  it,  you 
would  to  Newgate  for  certain,  and  to  the  pillory  perhaps 
— but  I  should  be  not  a  penny  the  worse.  Your  word 
forsooth!     Why,  man,  you  are  crazed!  " 

"Ay,  but  if  I  had  you  followed  here?"  the  other 
answered  savagely.  "  If  I  can  produce  three  witnesses  to 
prove  that  you  were  with  me  to-day,  and  by  stealth! 
And  by  stealth,  my  lord  ?     What  then  ?  " 

"Why,  then  this!  "  the  Duke  answered  with  compo- 
sure. "And  it  is  my  answer.  I  shall  go  hence  to  the 
King  and  tell  him  all;  and  on  your  information,  Mr. 
Ferguson,  the  Duke  of  Berwick  will  be  arrested.  What- 
ever my  fate  or  his  after  that,  I  shall  have  done  my  duty 
and  kept  my  oath  as  a  privy-councillor,  and  the  rest  I 
leave  to  God!  But  for  you,"  he  continued,  slowly  and 
Avith  solemnity,  "who  to  gain  a  hold  on  me  have  be- 
trayed the  son  of  your  King,  your  fate  be  on  your  own 
head!" 

The  plotter,  who,  I  think,  had  expected  any  answer  but 
this,  and,  it  may  be,  had  never  considered  his  own  posi- 
tion, should  the  Duke  stand  firm,  roared  out  a  furious 
"  You  lie  !  "  And  then  again  in  a  frenzy,  as  the  conse- 
quences rose  more  clearly  before  him,  "You  lie!"  he 
cried,  striking  his  hand  on  the  table.  "  You  will  not  do 
it!     You  will  not  dare  to  do  it!  " 

"Mr.  Ferguson,"  the  Duke  answered  haughtily,  "I 
do  not  suffer  j)ersons  of  your  condition  to  tell  me  what 
I  dare,  or  do  not  dare;  or  persons  of  any  condition  to 
give  me  the  lie.     Be  good  enough  to  open  the  door!  " 

"Sign  the  paper!  "  the  conspirator  hissed.  His  face, 
at  no  time  sightly,  was  now  distorted  by  fear  and  the 
rage  of  defeat;  while  the  chair  on  the  back  of  which  he 
leaned  his  left  hand,  jerked  this  way  and  that  as  if  the 


SHREWSBURY  189 

palsy  had  him.  "  Sign  the  paper,  will  you  ?  Or  your 
blood  be  on  your  own  head!  " 

The  Duke's  only  answer  was  to  point  to  the  door  with 
his  cane.  "Open  it!"  he  said,  his  breath  coming  a 
little  quickly,  but  his  manner  otherwise  unmoved.  "  Do 
you  hear  me?" 

But  either  Ferguson's  rage  had  so  much  the  mastery  of 
him  that  he  could  no  longer  control  himself,  or  he  was 
desperate,  seeing  into  what  an  abyss  the  other's  firmness 
was  pushing  him;  or  from  the  first  he  had  determined  on 
this  course  in  the  last  resort.  At  any  rate  at  that  word, 
and  instead  of  complying,  he  fell  back  a  step  and  with  a 
dark  face  drew  a  pistol  from  the  pocket  of  his  long  coat. 
"  Sign!  "  he  cried,  his  voice  wdiistling  in  his  throat,  as  he 
levelled  the  arm  at  my  lord's  head.  "  Sign,  you  Eoman 
spawn,  or  I'll  spill  your  brains!  Sign,  or  you  don't  go 
out  of  this  room  alive!  Has  the  Lord's  foot  been  put  on 
the  neck  of  his  enemies  that  such  as  you  should  divide 
the  spoil  !  " 

There  was  nothing  to  sign,  for  he  had  not  produced 
the  paper.  But  in  the  delirium  of  fear  and  excitement 
into  which  he  had  fallen,  he  was  unconscious  of  this, 
and  of  all  except  that  he  was  in  danger  of  falling  into 
the  pit  he  had  digged  for  another.  His  hand  shook  so 
violently  that  every  moment  I  expected  the  pistol  to  ex- 
plode, with  his  will  or  without  it;  his  fears  no  less  than 
his  despair  putting  my  lord  in  danger.  What  he,  who 
stood  thus  exposed  to  naked  death  thought  in  his  heart 
while  his  existence  hung  on  a  shaking  finger,  I  can  not 
say,  nor  if  he  prayed ;  for  no  man  talked  less  of  religion, 
to  be,  as  I  trust  he  was,  a  believer;  while  the  pride  which 
supported  him  in  that  crisis  was  as  powerful  to  close  his 
lips  after  the  event.  "  Put  that  down!  "  was  all  he  said; 
and  met  the  other's  eyes  without  blenching,  though  I 
think  that  he  was  a  trifle  paler  than  he  had  been. 

"  Sign!  "  answered  the  madman  with  an  oath. 


190  SHREWSBURY 

"  Put  it  down!  "  repeated  the  Duke;  and  doubtless  his 
courage  by  imposing  a  restraint  on  the  other's  headiness 
postponed^  though  it  could  not  avert,  the  catastrojihe. 

For,  every  second  they  stood  thus  fronting  one  another, 
Ferguson  grinning  and  gibbering  to  him  to  sign,  I  looked 
to  see  the  pistol  explode,  and  my  lord  fall  lifeless.  My 
knees  shook  under  me;  horrified  at  this  murder  to  be 
committed  under  my  eyes,  scarce  conscious  what  I  did  or 
would  do,  I  fumbled  for  the  handle  of  the  door — which 
luckily  was  beside  me;  and  found  it  precisely  as  the 
Duke,  with  a  twirl  of  his  cane,  as  swift  as  it  was  unex- 
pected, knocked  the  pistol  aside  and  sprang  bodily  on  the 
villain,  striving  to  bear  him  down.  He  had  no  time  to 
draw  his  sword. 

He  was  the  younger  man  by  twenty  years  and  the  more 
active,  if  not  the  more  powerful;  so  that  for  an  instant 
it  seemed  to  me  that  the  danger  was  over.  But  I  counted 
without  Ferguson;  who  leaping  back  before  the  other 
could  grapple  with  him,  with  a  nimbleness  beyond  his 
years  put  the  table  between  them,  and  levelling  the  pistol 
afresh  with  a  snarl  of  rage,  pulled  the  trigger.  The  flint 
snapped  harmlessly! 

More  than  that  I  could  not  bear,  and,  by  heaven's 
mercy,  the  movement  had  brought  the  wretch  close  to 
the  door  at  which  I  stood,  and  which  I  had  that  mo- 
ment opened.  As  he  aimed  the  pistol  a  second  time, 
and  with  a  fresh  execration,  I  flung  my  arms  round  him 
from  behind,  and  with  my  right  hand  jerked  up  the 
pistol ;  which  exploded,  bringing  down  a  rush  of  plaster, 
and  filling  the  room  with  smoke  and  brimstone. 

An  interposition  so  sudden  and  timely  must  have  been 
no  less  a  surprise  to  the  Duke  than  to  Ferguson.  Never- 
theless, the  former,  without  the  loss  of  a  moment,  flung 
himself  on  his  antagonist;  and  seizing  the  pistol,  while  I 
clung  to  him  behind,  in  a  twinkling  he  had  him  dis- 
armed.     Yet,  even  when  this  was  done,  so  furious  were 


FLUNG   MY    ARMS   ROUND    HIM    FROM    BEHIND,    AND    WITH 
MY    RIGHT    HAND    JERKED    UP    THE    PISTOL 


SHREWSBURY  193 

the  man's  struggles,  and  so  inhuman  the  strength  he 
dis^^layed  (even  to  biting  and  foaming  in  a  fury  that 
could  only  be  called  maniacal)  that  it  was  as  much  as 
Ave  could  both  do  to  conquer  him;  though  we  were  two 
to  one,  and  younger.  Nor  would  he  be  quiet  or  resign 
himself  to  defeat  until  we  had  him  down  on  his  back, 
with  my  lord's  sword-point  at  his  throat. 

Then  it  was  that  while  we  stood  over  him,  panting  and 
trembliug  with  the  exertions  we  had  made,  my  lord 
turned  his  eyes  on  me.  "  My  friend,"  he  said,  "  who  are 
you?" 

I  could  not  speak  for  emotion;  and  though  he  was 
calmer,  I  could  see  that  he  was  deeply  stirred,  both  by 
the  risk  he  had  run,  and  the  narrowness  of  his  escape. 
"  My  lord,"  I  cried,  at  last,  "  take  me  away." 

"  From  here  ?  "  he  said. 

^' Yes,"  I  said,  "for  God's  sake,  for  God's  sake,  take 
me  away,"  and  I  burst  into  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  sob- 
bing; so  overcome  was  I  by  what  had  happened,  and  what 
had  almost  happened. 

He  looked  at  me,  his  lip  twitching  a  little,  and  his 
breast  heaving.  "  Be  easy,  man,"  he  said.  "  Were  you 
set  to  watch  me?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said. 

'"  And  you  heard  all  ?  " 

''AIL" 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  said  again. 

"Two  months  ago  I  was  an  honest  man,"  I  answered 
bitterly,  "and  then  I  got  into  Ids  clutches.  And  he  has 
ridden  me.     Ah,  how  he  has  ridden  me!  " 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  nodding  gravely.  "  Well,  his  riding 
days  are  over.  Ilark  you,  Mr.  Ferguson,"  he  continued, 
turning  to  the  prostrate  man,  who,  grovelling  before  us — 
I  had  taken  the  precaution  of  tying  his  hands  with  my 
garters — acknowledged  his  attention  by  a  hollow  groan, 
"  I  am  no  thief -taker,  and  I  shall  not  soil  my  hands  with 
13 


194  SHREWSBURY 

you.  But  within  an  hour  tlie  messengers  will  be  here; 
and  if  they  find  you,  look  to  yourself;  for  I  think  that 
in  that  case  you  will  indubitably  hang.  In  the  meantime 
I  will  take  your  pistol."  Then  to  me,  "Come,  my 
man,"  he  said,  "  if  you  wish  to  go  with  me." 

"I  do,"  I  cried. 

"  Well,  I  owe  you  more  than  that,"  he  answered  kindly. 
"And  I  need  you,  besides.  Mr.  Ferguson,  I  bid  you 
farewell.  You  have  proved  yourself  a  more  foolish  man 
than  I  thought  you.  A  worse  you  could  not.  The  best 
I  can  wish  you  is  that  you  may  never  see  my  face  again." 


CHAPTEE   XXIII 

My  lord,  I  found,  had  a  coach,  without  arms  or  insig- 
nia, waiting  for  him  at  the  Great  Turnstile  in  Holborn; 
where,  if  persons  recognised  him  as  he  alighted,  he  would 
be  taken  to  have  business  with  the  lawyers  in  Lincoln's 
Inn,  or  at  my  Lord  Somers's  in  the  Fields.  Following 
him  to  the  coach  on  foot,  I  never  saw  a  man  walk  in 
more  deep  or  anxious  thought.  He  took  no  heed  of  me, 
after  bidding  me  by  a  gesture  to  attend  him;  but  twice 
he  stood  in  doubt,  and  once  he  made  as  if  he  would 
return  whence  he  had  come,  and  once  as  if  he  would 
cross  the  Fields — I  think  to  Powis  House.  In  the  end 
he  went  on,  and  arriving  at  the  coach,  the  door  of  which 
was  opened  for  him  by  a  footman  in  a  plain  livery,  he 
bade  me  by  a  sign  to  follow  him  into  it.  This  I  was  not 
for  doing,  thinking  it  too  great  an  honour;  but  on  his 
crying  impatiently,  "  Man,  how  do  you  think  I  am  to 
talk  to  you  if  you  ride  outside?"  I  hastened  to  enter, 
in  equal  confusion  and  humility. 

Nevertheless,  some  time  elapsed,  and  we  had  travelled 


SHREWSBURY  195 

the  length  of  Ilolborii  before  he  spoke.  Then  rousing 
himself  on  a  sudden  from  his  preoccupation,  he  looked  at 
me.     ''  Do  you  know  a  man  called  Barclay  ?  "  said  he. 

"  No,  your  Grace,"  I  answered. 

"  Sir  George  Barclay  ?  " 

"No,  your  Grace." 

"  Or  Porter  ?     Or  Charnock  ?     Or  King  ?  " 

"  No,  your  Grace." 

"Umph!"  said  he,  seeming  to  be  disappointed;  and 
for  a  time  he  looked  out  of  the  window.  Presently, 
however,  he  glanced  at  me  again,  and  so  sharply  that  I 
dropped  my  eyes,  out  of  respect.  "I  have  seen  you 
before,"  he  said,  at  last. 

Surprised  beyond  measure  that  he  remembered  me,  so 
many  years  having  elapsed,  I  confessed  with  emotion  that 
he  had. 

"Where?"  he  asked  plainly.  "I  see  many  people. 
And  I  have  not  old  Rowley's  memory." 

I  told  him.  "Your  Grace  may  not  remember  it,"  I 
said,  greatly  moved,  "but  many  years  ago  at  Abbot's 
Stanstead,  at  Sir  Baldwin  Winston's " 

"What?"  he  exclaimed,  catting  me  short,  with  a 
flicker  of  laughter  in  his  grave  eyes.  And  he  looked  me 
over.  "Did  I  flesh  my  maiden  justice-sword  on  you? 
Were  you  the  lad  who  ran  away  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  lord — the  lad  whose  life  you  saved,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"Well,  then  we  are  quits,"  he  had  the  kindness  to 
answer;  and  asked  me  how  I  had  lived  siace  those  days. 

I  told  him,  naming  Mr.  Timothy  Brome,  and  saying 
that  he  would  give  me  a  character.  The  mention  of  the 
news-writer,  however,  had  a  different  effect  from  that  I 
expected;  his  Grace  conceiving  a  hasty  idea  that  he  also 
was  concerned  with  Ferguson,  and  muttering  under  this 
impression  that  if  such  men  were  turning,  it  was  vain  to 
fisfht  asainst  the  stream.     I  hastened  to  disabuse  him  of 


196  iSHBFWSBURY 

the  notion  by  explaining  how  I  came  to  fall  into  Fergu- 
son's hands.  On  which  he  asked  me  what  I  had  done 
for  the  plotter,  and  how  he  had  employed  me. 

"  He  would  send  me  on  errands,"  I  answered,  "  and  to 
fetch  papers  from  the  printers,  and  to  carry  his  mes- 
sages." 

"  To  coffee-houses  ?  " 

"  Often,  your  Grace." 

"  Did  he  ever  send  you  to  Covent  Garden?  "  he  asked, 
looking  fixedly  at  me. 

"  Yes,  your  Grace,  to  a  gentleman  with  a  white  hand- 
kerchief hanging  from  his  pocket." 

"  Ha!  "  said  he;  and  with  an  eager  light  in  his  face  he 
bade  me  tell  him  all  I  knew  of  that  man.  This  giving 
me  the  cue,  I  detailed  what  I  had  seen  and  heard  at  the 
Seven  Stars  the  previous  evening,  the  toast  of  the  Squeez- 
ing of  the  Eotten  Orange,  the  hints  which  had  escaped 
the  drunken  conspirator,  not  forgetting  his  references  to 
the  Hunting  Party,  and  the  date,  Saturday  or  Saturday 
week.  I  added  also  what  I  had  learned  from  the  girl,  but 
mentioned  for  this  no  authority.  To  all  my  lord  listened 
attentively,  nodding  from  moment  to  moment,  and  at 
last,  "  Then  Porter  is  not  lying  this  time,"  he  said,  draw- 
ing a  deep  breath.  "  I  feared — but  here  we  are.  Follow 
me,  my  friend,  and  keep  close  to  me." 

Engrossed  in  my  story,  and  the  attention  that  was  due 
to  his  rank,  I  had  paid  no  heed  either  to  the  way  we  had 
come,  or  to  our  gradual  passage  from  the  smoke  and  bab- 
ble of  London  to  country  air  and  stillness.  A  vague 
notion  that  we  were  still  travelling  the  Oxford  Road  was 
all  I  retained:  and  tliis  was  rudely  shaken  when,  recalled 
to  the  present  by  his  words,  I  looked  out,  and  discovered 
that  the  coach  was  bowling  along  an  avenue  of  lofty  trees, 
with  park-like  pastures  stretched  on  either  hand.  I  had 
no  more  than  time  to  note  so  much  and  that  the  horses 
were  slackening  their  pace,  before  we  rumbled  under  an 


SHREWSBURY  197 

archw^ay,  and  drew  up  in  a  spacious  courtyard  shut  iu  on 
four  sides  by  warm-looking  red-brick  buildings,  wliereof 
the  wing  under  which  we  liad  driven  was  surmounted  by 
a  quaintly-sha2oed  bell-turret. 

Ignorant  where  my  lord  lived,  and  little  acquainted 
with  the  villages  which  lie  around  London,  I  supposed 
that  he  had  brought  me  to  his  house.  The  sight  of  a 
couple,  of  sentries,  who  walked  with  arms  ported  before 
a  wide,  low  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  principal  door, 
should  have  enlightened  me;  but  a  flock  of  jiigeons,  that, 
disturbed  by  our  entrance,  were  now  settling  down,  and 
beginning  to  strut  the  gravel  with  the  most  absurd  air  of 
possession,  caught  my  attention,  and  diverted  me  from 
this  mark  of  State.  Nor  did  a  knot  of  servants,  loung- 
ing silently  under  a  portico,  or  two  or  three  sedans  which 
I  espied  waiting  a  little  apart,  go  far  to  detract  from  the 
general  air  of  peace  and  quietude  which  prevailed  in  the 
IDlace.  Other  observations  I  had  no  time  to  make;  for 
my  lord,  mounting  the  steps,  bade  me  follow  him. 

I  did  so,  across  a  spacious  hall  floored  with  shining 
wood  laid  in  strange  patterns.  Here  were  three  or  four 
servants,  who  stood  at  attention,  but  did  not  approach; 
and  passing  them  without  notice,  we  had  reached  the  foot 
of  a  wide  and  handsome  staircase  before  a  person  dressed 
plainly  in  black  and  carrying  a  tall  slender  wand  came 
forward,  and  with  a  low  bow  interposed  himself. 

''Your  Grace's  pardon,"  he  said,  ''the  Council  has 
broken  up." 

"How  long?" 

"About  half  an  hour." 

"  Ah !   And  Lord  Somers  ?   Did  he  go  back  to  town  ?  " 

"Yes,  your  Grace,  immediately." 

The  Duke  at  that  asked  a  question  which  I,  standing 
back  a  little  out  of  respect,  and  being  awed  besides  by 
the  grandeur  of  the  ]ilace  and  the  silence,  did  not  catch. 
The  answer,  however,   "  Onlv  Lord  Portland  and  Mr. 


198  SERE  WSB  UR  Y 

Sewell,"  I  heard;  and  likewise  the  Duke's  rejoinder,  "  I 
am  going  up." 

"  You  will  permit  me  to  announce  your  Grace,"  the 
other  answered  quickly.  He  seemed  to  be  something 
between  a  gentleman  and  a  servant. 

"  No,"  my  lord  said.  "  I  am  in  haste,  and  I  have  that 
will  be  my  warranty.     This  person  goes  with  me." 

"I  hope  your  Grace — will  answer  for  it  then,"  the 
man  in  black  rej^lied  respectfully,  but  with  a  little  hesi- 
tation in  his  tone. 

"  I  will  answer  for  it  that  you  are  not  blamed,  Nash," 
the  Duke  rejoined,  with  good  nature.  "  Yes,  yes.  And 
now  let  us  up." 

On  that  the  man  with  the  wand  stood  aside — still  a 
little  doubtfully  I  thought — and  let  us  pass:  and  my 
patron  preceding  me,  we  went  up  a  Avide  staircase  and 
along  a  silent  corridor,  and  through  one  or  two  swing 
doors,  the  Duke  seeming  to  be  conversant  with  the  house. 
It  was  impossible  not  to  admire  the  sombre  richness  of 
tlie  carved  furniture,  which  stood  here  and  there  in  the 
corridor;  or  the  grotesque  designs  and  eastern  colouring 
of  the  China  ware  and  Mogul  idols  that  peered  from  the 
corners,  or  rose  boldly  on  brackets.  Such  a  mode  of  fur- 
nishing was  new  to  me,  but  neither  its  novelty  nor  the 
evidences  of  wealth  and  taste  whicli  abundantly  met  the 
eye,  imj^ressed  me  so  deeply  as  the  stillness  which  every- 
where prevailed;  and  which  seemed  so  much  a  part  of 
the  place,  that  when  his  Grace  opened  the  second  swing 
door,  and  the  shrill  piping  voice  of  a  child,  crowing  and 
laughing  in  an  ecstasy  of  infantile  pleasure,  came  forth 
and  met  us,  I  started  as  if  a  gun  had  exploded. 

I  know  now  that  the  sound,  by  giving  my  patron  assur- 
ance that  he  whom  he  sought  Avas  not  there,  but  in  his 
closet,  led  to  my  admission;  and  that  without  that  assur- 
ance my  lord  would  have  left  me  to  Avait  at  the  door.  As 
it  was,  he  said  nothing  to  me,  but  Avent  on;  and  I  follow- 


SHREWSBURY 


199 


ing  him  in  my  innocence  through  tlie  doorway,  came,  at 
the  same  moment  he  did,  on  a  scene  as  rare  as  it  is  by  me 
well  remembered. 

We  stood  on  the  threshold  of  a  wide  and  splendid  gal- 


A   SLIGHT   GENTLEMAN   AMBLED  AND  PACED   IN   FRONT   OF   A   CHILD 


lery,  set  here  and  there  with  huge  china  vases,  and  hung 
with  pictures;  which  even  then  I  discerned  to  be  of  great 
beauty,  and  afterwards  learned  were  of  no  less  value. 
Letting  my  eyes  travel  down  this  vista,  they  paused  natu- 


200  SHREWSBURY 

rally  on  a  spot  under  one  of  the  windows;  where  with 
his  back  to  us  and  ribbons  in  his  hands,  a  slight  gentle- 
man, who  stooped  somewhat  and  was  dressed  in  black, 
ambled  and  paced  in  front  of  a  child  of  four  or  five  years 
old.  The  wintry  sunlight  which  fell  in  cold  bars  on  the 
floor,  proved  his  progress  to  be  more  showy  than  real; 
nevertheless  the  child  shrieked  in  its  joy,  and  dancing, 
jerked  the  ribbons  and  waved  a  tiny  whip.  In  answer, 
the  gentleman  whose  long  curled  periwig  bobbed  oddly 
on  his  shoulders — he  had  his  back  to  us — pranced  more 
and  more  stoutly  ;  though  on  legs  a  little  thin  and 
bent. 

A  long  moment  I  stared  at  this  picture,  little  thinking 
on  what  I  gazed;  nor  was  it  until  a  gentleman  seated  at  a 
side  table  not  far  from  the  pair,  rose  hurriedly  from  his 
chair  and  with  a  guttural  exclamation  came  towards  us, 
that  I  remarked  this  third  occupant  of  the  gallery.  AVhen 
I  did  so,  it  was  to  discern  that  he  was  angry,  and  that  my 
lord  was  taken  aback  and  disturbed.  It  even  seemed  to 
me  that  my  patron  made  a  hasty  movement  to  withdraw. 
Before  he  could  do  so,  however,  or  I  who,  behind  him 
barred  the  way,  could  take  the  hint,  the  gentleman  in 
black,  warned  of  our  presence  by  the  other's  exclama- 
tion, turned  to  us,  and  still  standing  and  holding  the  rib- 
bons in  his  hands  looked  at  us. 

He  had  a  long  sallow  face,  which  seemed  the  sallower 
for  the  dark  heavy  wig  that  fell  round  it;  a  large  hooked 
nose  and  full  peevish  lips;  with  eyes  both  bright  and 
morose.  I  am  told  that  he  seldom  smiled,  and  never 
laughed,  and  that  while  the  best  tales  of  King  Charles's 
Court  passed  round  him,  he  would  stand  abstracted,  or 
on  occasion  wither  the  teller  by  a  silent  nod.  The  Court 
wits  who  dubbed  my  Lord  Nottingham,  Don  Dismallo, 
could  find  no  worse  title  for  him.  Yet  that  he  had  a  well 
of  humour,  deeply  hidden  and  rarely  drawn  upon,  no  one 
could  doubt  who  saw  him  approach  us,  a  fiicker  of  dry 


SHREWSBURY  201 

amusement  in  liis  eyes  giving  the  lie  to  his  pursed-nplips 
and  the  grimuess  of  his  visage. 

"  Your  Grace  is  always  welcome,"  he  said,  speaking  in 
English  a  little  broken  and  guttural.  "  Aud  yet  you 
might  have  come  more  a proiws,  I  confess." 

"A  thousand  pardons,  sir,"  my  lord  answered,  bow- 
ing until  his  knee  well-nigh  touched  the  ground.  "I 
thought  that  you  were  in  your  closet,  sir,  or  I  should 
have  taken  your  pleasure  before  I  intruded." 

"  But  you  have  news  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

''Ha!  And  this  person  " — he  looked  fixedly  at  me — 
"is  concerned." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then,  my  Lord  Buck — "  and  with  that  he  turned 
and  addressed  the  child  who  was  still  tugging  at  the  rib- 
bons, "  II  faut  partir  !  Do  you  hear  me,  you  must  go? 
Qo,  petit  vaurien!    I  have  business." 

The  child  looked  at  him  boldly.     "  Faut  il?  "  said  he. 

"  Old!  oui !     Say  merci,  and  go." 

"  3ferci,  Monsieur,^''  the  boy  answered.  And  then  to 
us  with  a  solemn  nod.  "  J'ai  eu  sa  Majeste  for  my  che- 
vaux!  " 

"  Cheval !  Cheval !  "  corrected  the  gentleman  in  black. 
*'Andbeoff." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

Apprised  by  what  I  heard,  not  only  that  I  stood  in 
the  Gallery  of  Kensington  Court — a  mansion  which  His 
Majesty  had  lately  bought  from  Lord  Nottingham,  and 
made  his  favourite  residence — but  that  the  gentleman  in 
black  whom  I  had  found  so  simply  employed  was  no  other 
than  the  King  himself,  I  ask  you  to  imagine  with  what 


303  SHREWSBURY 

interest  I  looked  upon  liim.  He  whom  the  old  King  of 
France  had  dubbed  in  bitter  derision,  the  "  Little  Squire 

of  ,"  and  whom  two  revolutions  had    successfully 

created  Stadtholder  of  Holland  and  Sovereign  of  these 
Isles,  was  at  this  time  forty-six  years  old,  already  prema- 
turely bent,  and  a  prey  to  the  asthma  which  afflicted  his 
later  life,  Eeserved  in  manner,  and  sombre,  not  to  say 
melancholy,  in  aspect,  hiding  strong  passions  behind  a 
pale  mask  of  stoicism  as  chilling  to  his  friends  as  it  was 
baffling  to  his  enemies,  he  was  such  as  a  youth  spent  under 
the  eyes  of  watchful  foes,  and  a  manhood  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  weighty  and  secret  designs,  made  him.  Descended 
on  the  one  side  from  William  the  Silent,  on  the  other 
from  the  great  Henry  of  France,  he  was  thought  to  ex- 
hibit, in  more  moderate  degree,  the  virtues  and  failings 
which  marked  those  famous  princes,  and  to  represent,  not 
in  blood  only,  but  in  his  fortunes,  the  two  soldiers  of  the 
sixteenth  century  whose  courage  in  disaster  and  skill  in 
defeat  still  passed  for  a  proverb;  who,  frequently  beaten 
in  the  field,  not  seldom  garnered  the  fruits  of  the  cam- 
paign, and  rose,  Antgeus-like,  the  stronger  from  every 
fall. 

That,  in  all  stations,  as  a  private  person,  a  Stadtholder 
and  a  King,  his  late  Majesty  remembered  the  noble 
sources  whence  he  sprang,  was  proved,  I  think,  not  only 
by  the  exactness  with  which  his  life  was  wrought  to  the 
pattern  of  those  old  mottoes  of  his  house,  Smvus  tran- 
quillus  in  Undis,  and  Tandem  fit  Surculus  arljor, 
whereof  the  former  was  borne,  I  have  read,  by  the  Taci- 
turn, and  the  latter  by  Maurice  of  Nassau — but  of  two 
other  particulars  of  which  I  beg  leave  to  mention.  The 
first  was  that  more  majorum  he  took  naturally  and  from 
the  first  the  lead  as  the  champion  of  the  Protestant  relig- 
ion in  Europe;  the  second,  that  though  he  had  his  birth 
in  a  republic,  and  was  called  to  be  King  by  election  (so 
that  it  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  some  of  his  subjects 


SHREWSBURY  203 

to  put  slights  upon  him  as  little  more  than  their  equal — 
ay,  and  though  he  had  to  bear  such  affronts  in  silence), 
he  had  the  true  spirit  and  pride  of  a  King  born  in  the 
purple,  and  by  right  divine.  Insomuch  that  many  attrib- 
uted to  this  the  gloom  and  reserve  of  his  manners;  main- 
taining that  these  were  assumed  less  as  a  shield  against 
the  malice  of  his  enemies,  than  as  a  cloak  to  abate  the 
familiarity  of  his  friends. 

And  certainly  some  in  speaking  of  him  of  late  years 
belittle  his  birth  no  less  than  his  exploits,  when  they  call 
him  Dutch  William,  and  the  like;  speaking  in  terms  un- 
worthy of  a  sovereign,  and  as  if  he  had  drawn  his  blood 
from  that  merchant  race,  instead  of — as  the  fact  was — 
from  the  princely  houses  of  Stuart,  Bourbon,  Nassau, 
and  Medici;  and  from  such  ancestors  as  the  noble  Coligny 
and  King  Charles  the  Martyr.     But  of  his  birth,  enough. 

For  the  rest,  having  a  story  to  tell,  and  not  history  to 
write,  I  refrain  from  recalling  how  great  he  was  as  a 
statesman,  how  resourceful  as  a  strategist,  how  indomita- 
ble as  a  commander,  how  valiant  Avhen  occasion  required 
in  the  pitched  field.  Nor  is  it  necessary,  seeing  that 
before  the  rise  of  my  Lord  Marlborough  (who  still  sur- 
vives, but  alas,  quantum  mutatus  ab  illo !)  he  had  no 
rival  in  any  of  these  capacities,  nor  in  the  first  will  ever 
be  excelled. 

Nor,  as  a  fact,  looking  on  him  in  the  flesh  as  I  then 
did  for  the  first  time,  can  I  say  that  I  saw  anything  to 
betoken  greatness,  or  the  least  outside  evidence  of  the 
fiery  spirit  that  twice  in  two  great  wars  stayed  all  the 
power  of  Louis  and  of  France;  that  saved  Holland;  that 
united  all  Europe  in  three  great  leagues;  finally,  that  leap- 
ing the  bounds  of  the  probable,  won  a  kingdom,  only  to 
hold  it  cheap,  and  a  means  to  farther  ends.  I  say  I  saw 
in  him  not  the  least  trace  of  this,  but  only  a  plain,  thin, 
grave,  and  rather  peevish  gentleman,  in  black  and  a  large 
wig,  who  coughed  much  between  his  words,  spoke  with  a 


304  SHREWSBURY 

foreign  accent,  and  often  lapsed  into  French  or  some 
strange  tongue. 

He  waited  until  the  door  had  fallen  to  behind  the  child, 
and  the  long  gallery  lay  silent,  and  then  bade  my  lord 
speak.  "  I  breathe  better  here,"  he  said.  "  I  hate  small 
rooms.     What  is  the  news  you  have  brought  ?  " 

"No  good  news,  sir,"  my  patron  answered.  "And 
yet  I  can  scarcely  call  it  bad.  In  the  country  it  will  have 
a  good  effect." 

"Bien!     But  what  is  it?" 

"  I  have  seen  Ferguson,  sir." 

"  Then  you  have  seen  a  d d  scoundrel!  "  the  King 

exclaimed,  with  an  energy  I  had  not  expected  from  him; 
and,  indeed,  such  outbreaks  were  rare  with  him.  "  He  is 
arrested,  then?  " 

"No,  sir,"  the  Duke  answered.  "I  trust,  however, 
that  he  will  be  before  night." 

"Bat  if  he  be  free,  how  came  you  in  his  company  ?  " 
the  King  asked,  somewhat  sharply. 

My  lord  hesitated,  and  seemed  for  a  moment  at  a  loss 
how  to  answer.  Being  behind  him,  I  could  not  see  his 
face,  but  I  fancied  that  he  grew  red,  and  that  the  fourth 
person  present,  a  stout,  burly  gentleman,  marked  Avith 
the  small-pox,  Avho  had  advanced  and  now  stood  near  the 
King,  was  hard  put  to  it  not  to  smile.  At  last,  "I 
received  a  letter,  sir,"  my  lord  said,  speaking  stiffly  and 
with  constraint,  "purporting  to  come  from  a  third  per- 
son  " 

"Ah!"  said  the  King,  drawling  the  word,  and  nod- 
ding dry  comprehension. 

"  On  the  faith  of  which,  believing  it  to  be  from  that 

other — if  you  understand,  sir " 

■    "I  understand  perfectly,"  said  the  King,  and  coughed. 

"  I  was  induced,"  my  lord  said  doggedly,  "  to  give  the 
villain  a  meeting.  And  learned,  sir,  partly  from  him, 
and   partly   from   this  man  here" — this  more   freely— 


SHREWSBURY  205 

"  enougli   to  corroborate  the   main   particulars  of  Mr. 
Preudergast's  story. " 

"Ah?"  said  the  King.  "Good.  And  the  particu- 
lars?" 

"  That  Sir  George  Barclay,  the  person  mentioned  by 
Mr.  Prendergast,  is  giving  nightly  rendezvous  in  Covent 
Garden  to  persons  mainly  from  France,  who  are  being 
formed  by  him  into  a  band ;  the  design,  as  stated  by  Pren- 
dergast, to  fall  on  your  Majesty's  person  in  the  lane 
between  Fulham  Green  and  the  river  on  your  returning 
from  hunting." 

"Does  he  agree  as  to  the  names?"  the  King  asked, 
looking  at  me. 

"  He  knows  no  names,  sir,"  the  Duke  answered,  "  but 
he  saw  a  number  of  the  conspirators  at  the  Seven  Stars 
in  Covent  Garden  last  night,  and  heard  them  speak  openly 
of  a  hunting  party;  with  other  things  pointing  the  same 
way." 

"  Was  Barclay  there  ?  " 

"  He  can  speak  to  a  person  Avho  I  think  can  be  identi- 
fied as  Barclay,"  my  lord  answered.  "  He  cannot  speak 
to  Charnock " 

"  That  is  the  Oxford  man  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir — or  Porter,  or  King;  or  the  others  by  those 
names.  But  he  can  speak  to  two  of  them  under  the 
names  by  which  Prendergast  said  that  they  were  pass- 
ing." 

"  C'est  tout!  Well,  it  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  so 
simple  !  "  the  King  said  with  a  touch  of  impatience. 
"  What  is  this  person's  name,  and  who  is  he  ?  " 

The  Duke  told  him  that  I  had  been  Ferguson's  tool. 

"  That  rogue  is  in  it  then  ?  " 

"  He  is  privy  to  it,"  the  Duke  answered. 

His  Majesty  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  if  the  answer 
annoyed  him.  "You  English  draw  fine  distinctions," 
he  said.     "  Whatever  you  do,  however,   let  us  have  no 


206  SHREWSBURY 

repetition  of  the  Lancashire  fiasco.  You  will  bear  that 
in  mind,  my  lord,  if  you  please.  Another  of  Taafe's 
pseudo  plots  would  do  us  more  harm  in  the  country  than 
the  loss  of  a  battle  in  Flanders.  Faugh!  we  have  knaves 
at  home,  but  you  have  a  breed  here — your  Oates's  and 
your  Taafes  and  your  Fullers — for  whom  breaking  on  the 
wheel  is  too  good!  " 

"There  are  rogues,  sir,  in  all  countries,"  my  lord 
answered  somewhat  tartly.  "I  do  not  know  that  we 
have  a  monopoly  of  them." 

"The  Duke  of  Shrewsbury  is  right  there,  sir,"  the 
gentleman  behind  the  King  who  had  not  yet  spoken, 
struck  in,  in  a  good-natured  tone.  "  They  are  things  of 
which  there  is  no  scarcity  anywhere.     I  remember " 

'■'Taisez!  Taisez!''''  cried  the  King  brusquely,  cut- 
ting short  his  reminiscences — whereat  the  gentleman, 
smiling  imperturbably,  took  snufE.  "  Tell  me  this.  Is 
Sir  John  Fen  wick  implicated  ?  " 

"There  may  be  evidence  against  him,"  my  lord  an- 
swered cautiously. 

The  King  sneered  openly.  "  Yes, "  he  said.  "  I  see 
Porter  and  Goodman  and  Charnock  are  guilty!  But 
when  it  touches  one  of  yourselves,  my  lord,  then  '  There 
is  evidence  against  him,'  or  '  It  is  a  case  of  suspicion,' 
or — oh,  you  all  hang  together!  "  And  pursing  up  his 
lips  he  looked  sourly  at  us.  "  You  all  hang  together!  " 
he  repeated.  "I  stand  to  be  shot  at — c'est  dommage. 
But  touch  a  noble,  and  Oare  la  NohlesseV 

"  You  do  us  an  injustice,  sir,"  my  lord  cried  warmly. 
"  I  will  answer  for  it " 

"Oh,  I  do  you  an  injustice,  do  I?"  the  King  said, 
disregarding  his  last  words.  "Of  course  I  do!  Of 
course  you  are  all  faithful,  most  faithful.  You  have  all 
taken  the  oath.  But  I  tell  you,  my  Lord  Shrewsbury, 
the  King  to  whom  you  swore  allegiance,  the  King  crowned 
in  '89  was  not  William  the  Third,  but  Noblesse  the  first! 


SHREWSBURY  207 

La  Noblesse  !  Yes,  my  lord,  you  may  look  at  me,,  and  as 
angrily  as  you  like;  but  it  was  so.  Par  dieuet  diahle, 
you  tie  my  hands!  You  tie  my  hands,  you  cling  to  my 
sword,  you  choke  my  purse!  I  had  as  much  power  in 
Holland  as  I  have  here.     And  more!     And  more!  " 

He  would  have  gone  farther,  and  with  the  same  can- 
dour I  think;  but  at  that  the  gentleman  who  had  inter- 
rupted him  before,  struck  in  again,  addressing  him  rap- 
idly in  what  I  took  to  be  Dutch,  and  doubtless  pointing 
out  the  danger  of  too  great  openness.  At  any  rate  I 
took  that  to  be  the  gist  of  his  words,  not  only  from  his 
manner,  but  from  the  fact  that  when  he  had  done — the 
King  looking  gloomy  and  answering  nothing — he  turned 
to  my  lord. 

"  The  King  trusts  your  Grace,"  he  said  bluntly.  "  He 
has  never  said  as  much  to  an  Englishman  before.  I  am 
sure  that  the  trust  is  well  placed  and  that  his  Majesty's 
feelings  will  go  no  farther." 

The  Duke  bowed.  "Your  Majesty  authorises  me  to 
take  the  necessary  steps  then,"  he  said,  sjoeaking  some- 
what drily,  but  otherwise  ignoring  what  had  passed. 
"  To  secure  your  safety,  sir,  as  well  as  to  arrest  the 
guilty,  no  time  should  be  lost.  Warrants  should  be 
issued  immediately,  and  these  persons  taken  up." 

"  Before  Ferguson  can  warn  them,"  the  King  said  in 
his  ordinary  tone.  "  Yes,  see  to  it,  my  lord;  and  let  the 
Council  be  recalled.  The  guards,  too,  should  be  doubled, 
and  the  regiment  Prendergast  mentioned  displaced. 
Cutts  must  look  to  that,  and  do  you,  my  lord,"  he  con- 
tinued rapidly,  addressing  the  gentleman  beside  him, 
whom  I  now  conjectured  to  be  Lord  Portland,  "  fetch 
him  hither  and  lose  no  time.  Take  one  of  my  coaches. 
It  is  a  plot,  if  all  be  true,  should  do  us  good  in  the  coun- 
try.    And  that,  I  think,  is  your  Grace's  opinion." 

"  It  should,  sir.  Doubtless,  sir,  we  English  have  our 
faults;  but  we  are  not  fond  of  assassins." 


308  SHREWSBURY 

"  And  you  are  confident  that  tins  is  no  bubble  ?  "  the 
King  said  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  am." 

By  this  time  Lord  Portland  had  withdrawn  through  a 
door  at  the  farther  end  of  the  gallery.  The  King,  tak- 
ing a  turn  this  way  and  that,  with  his  hands  clasped 
behind  him,  and  his  head  bent  low,  so  that  his  great  wig 
almost  hid  his  features,  seemed  to  be  lost  in  thought. 
After  waiting  a  moment  the  Duke  coughed,  and  this 
failing  to  attract  the  King's  attention,  he  ventured  to 
address  him.  "  There  is  another  matter  I  have  to  men- 
tion to  you,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  constraint  in 
his  tone. 

The  King  paused  in  his  walk,  and  looked  sharply  at 
him.  "Ah,  of  course,"  he  said,  nodding.  "Did  you 
see  Lord  Middleton. " 

The  Duke  could  not  hide  a  start.  "  Lord  Middleton, 
sir?  "  he  faltered. 

The  King  smiled  coldly.  "  The  letter,"  he  said,  "  was 
from  him,  I  suppose  ?  " 

My  lord  rallied  himself.  "No,  sir,  it  was  not,"  he 
answered,  with  a  flash  of  spirit.  "  It  purported  to  be 
from  him." 

"  Yet  you  went — wherever  3^ou  went — thinking  to  see 
him?"  his  Majesty  continued,  smiling  rather  disagree- 
ably. 

"  I  did,"  my  lord  answered,  his  tone  betraying  his  agi- 
tation. "But  to  do  nothing  to  the  prejudice  of  your 
service,  sir,  and  what  I  could  to  further  your  interests — 
short  of  giving  him  up.     He  is  my  relative." 

The  King  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"And  for  years,"  my  lord  cried  warmly,  "was  my 
intimate  friend." 

The  King  shrugged  his  shoulders  again.  "  We  have 
fought  that  out  before,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh  of  weari- 
ness.    "  And  more  than  once.     For  the  rest  in  that  con- 


SERE  WSB  UR  Y  209 

nection  and  whatever  others  may  say,  Lord  Shrewsbury 
has  no  ground  to  complain  of  me." 

"I  have  cause,  sir,  to  do  far  otherwise!"  the  Duke 
answered  in  a  tone  suddenly  changed  and  so  full  of  emo- 
tion that  it  was  not  difficult  to  discern  that  he  had  forgot- 
ten my  i^resence;  which  was  not  wonderful,  as  I  stood 
behind  him  in  the  shadow  of  the  doorway,  whither  out  of 
modesty  I  had  retreated.  ''  God  knows  I  remember  it!  " 
he  continued.  "  Were  it  not  for  that,  if  I  were  not 
bound  to  your  Majesty  by  more  than  common  ties  of 
gratitiide,  I  should  not  be  to-day  in  a  service  which — for 
which  I  am  unfit!  The  daily  duties  of  which,  per- 
formed by  other  men  with  indifference  or  appetite,  fill 
me  with  pity  and  distaste!  the  risks  attending  which — I 
speak  without  ceremony,  sir — make  me  play  the  coward 
with  myself  a  hundred  times  a  day!  " 

'^  Cffisar,"  the  King  said  quietly,  "  lets  none  but  Csesar 
call  him  coward." 

Kindly  as  the  words  were  uttered,  and  in  a  tone  differ- 
ing much  from  that  which  the  King  had  hitherto  used, 
the  Duke  took  no  heed  of  them.  "  Others  wish  for  my 
place;  God  knows  I  wish  they  had  it!  "  he  cried,  his  agi- 
tation growing  rather  than  decreasing.  ''Every  hour, 
sir,  I  pray  to  be  quit  of  the  faction  and  perjury  in  which 
I  live!  Every  hour  I  loathe  more  deeply  the  work  I  have 
to  do  and  the  people  with  whom  I  have  to  do  it.  I  never 
go  to  my  office  but  my  gorge  rises;  nor  leave  it  but  I  see 
the  end.  And  yet  I  must  stay  in  it!  I  must  stay  in  it! 
I  tell  you,  sir,"  he  continued  impetuously,  "on  the  day 
that  you  burned  those  letters  you  but  freed  me  from  one 
slavery  to  fling  me  into  another!  " 

"  Yet  an  honest  one!  "  said  the  King  in  a  peculiar  tone. 

My  lord  threw  up  his  hands.  "  You  have  a  right  to 
say  that,  sir.  But  if  anyone  else — or,  no  I — I  forget 
myself." 

"  Something  has  disturbed  you,"  said  the  King  inter- 

14 


210  SHREWSBURY 

vening with  much  kindness.  "Take  time!  And  in  the 
meanwhile,  listen  to  me.  As  to  the  general  distaste  you 
express  for  my  service,  I  will  not,  and  I  do  not,  do  you 
the  injustice  to  attribute  it — whatever  you  say  your- 
self— to  your  fears  of  what  may  happen  in  a  possible 
event;  I  mean,  Vancien  regime  restitue.  If  such  fears 
weighed  so  heavily  with  you,  you  would  neither  have 
signed  the  Invitation  to  me,  nor  come  to  me  eight  years 
ago.  But  I  take  it  with  perhaps  some  apprehensions  of 
this  kind,  you  have — and  this  is  the  real  gist  of  the  mat- 
ter— a  natural  distaste  for  aSairs,  and  a  natural  prone- 
ness  to  be  on  good  terms  with  all,  rogues  as  well  as  good 
men.  It  irks  you  to  sign  a  death-warrant,  to  send  one 
to  Newgate,  and  another  to — bah,  I  forget  the  names  of 
your  prisons;  to  know  that  your  friends  abroad  are  not  as 
well  placed  at  St.  Germain's  as  they  were  at  St.  James's! 
You  have  no  care  to  push  an  advantage,  no  anxiety  to 
ruin  a  rival;  you  would  rather  trust  a  man  than  bind 
him.  In  a  word,  my  lord,  you  have  no  taste  for  public 
life  in  dangerous  and  troubled  times  such  as  these;  al- 
though  perforce  you  have  played  a  high  part  in  it." 

"  Sir!  "  the  Duke  cried,  with  an  anxiety  and  eagerness 
that  touched  me,  "you  know  me  better  than  I  know 
myself.     You  see  my  failings,  my  unfitness;  and  surely, 

seeing  them  so  clearly,  you  will  not  refuse  to " 

"  Eelease  you  ?  "  the  King  said  smiling.  "  That  does 
not  follow.  For  consider,  my  lord,  you  are  not  the  only 
one  in  the  world  who  pursues  perforce  a  path  for  which 
he  has  little  taste.  To  be  King  of  England  has  a  higher 
sound  than  to  be  Stadtholder  of  Holland.  But  to  be  a 
King  and  no  King;  to  see  your  way  clearly  and  be 
thwarted  by  those  who  see  no  fool  of  the  field;  to  have 
France  by  the  throat  and  be  baffled  for  the  lack  of  ten 
thousand  men  or  a  million  guilders;  above  all,  to  be  served 
by  men  who  have  made  use  of  you — who  have  one  foot 
on  either  shore,  and  having  betrayed  their  old  Master  to 


SHREWSBURY  211 

gain  their  ends,  would  now  betray  you  to  save  their 
necks.  This,  too,  forms  no  bed  of  roses!  But  I  lie  on 
it!  I  lie  on  it!"  he  concluded  phlegmatically;  and  as 
he  spoke  he  took  a  pinch  of  snuff.  "  In  fine,  my  lord," 
he  continued,  "  to  be  high,  or  what  the  world  calls  high, 
is  to  be  unhappy." 

The  Duke  sighed.  "You,  sir,  have  those  qualities 
which-  fit  you  for  your  part,"  he  said  sadly.  "  I  have 
not." 

"Havel?" 

The  King  said  no  more,  but  the  gesture  with  which  he 
held  out  his  hands,  as  if  he  bade  the  other  mark  his  fee- 
bleness, his  short  breath,  his  hacking  cough,  his  pallor, 
had  more  meaning  than  many  words.  "No,  my  lord," 
he  continued  after  a  pause,  "  I  cannot  release  you.  I 
cannot  afford  to  release  you,  because  I  cannot  afford  to 
release  the  one  man  who  does  not  day  by  day  betray  me, 
and  who  never  has  betrayed  me!  " 

"I  would  to  heaven  that  you  could  say  that!  "  the 
Duke  cried,  much  moved. 

"  I  can,  my  friend,"  the  King  answered,  with  a  gesture 
of  kindness.  "  It  was  nothing,  and  it  is  forgotten.  I 
have  long  ceased  to  think  of  it.  But,  c'est  vrai!  I  remem- 
ber when  I  say  I  can  trust  no  one  else.  I  do  my  good 
Somers  an  injustice.  He  is  a  dry  man,  however,  like 
myself,  and  poor  company,  and  does  not  count  for  much." 

My  lord,  contending  with  his  feelings,  did  not  answer, 
and  the  King  who,  while  speaking,  had  seated  himself  in 
a  high-backed  chair,  in  which  he  looked  frailer  and  more 
feeble  than  when  on  his  legs,  let  a  minute  elapse  before 
he  resumed  in  a  different  and  brisker  tone,  "And  now 
tell  me  what  has  troubled  our  good  Secretary  to-day  ?  " 

"The  Duke  of  Berwick,  sir,  is  in  London." 

To  my  astonishment,  and  I  have  no  doubt  to  the  Duke's, 
the  King  merely  nodded.  "  Ah!  "  he  said.  "  Is  he  in 
this  pretty  plot,  then  '?  " 


212  SHREWSBURY 

"  I  think  not,"  the  Duke  answered.     ''But  I  should 


suppose 

"That  he  is  here  to  take  advantage  of  it,"  the  King 
said.  "  Well,  he  is  his  uncle's  own  nephew.  I  suppose 
Ferguson  sold  him — as  he  has  sold  every  one  all  his 
life?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  But  not,  I  think,  with  the  intention  that 
I  should  carry  out  the  bargain." 

"Eh?" 

"It  is  a  long  tale,  sir,"  the  Duke  said  rather  wearily. 
"  And  having  given  your  Majesty  the  information " 

"You  need  not  tell  the  tale?  Well,  no,  for  I  can 
guess  it!  "  the  King  answered.  "The  old  rogue,  I  sup- 
pose, was  for  ruining  yon  with  me  if  you  hid  the  news; 
and  for  damning  you  with  King  James  if  you  informed: 
which  latter  he  did  not  think  likely,  but  that  instead  he 
would  have  a  hold  on  you." 

The  Duke  in  a  tone  of  much  surprise  acknowledged 
that  he  had  guessed  rightly. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  pretty  dilemma,"  said  the  King  with 
a  sort  of  gusto.     "And  where  is  M.  Fitz  James  in  hid- 


ing 


*?" 


"At  Dr.  Lloyd's  in  Hogsden  Gardens,"  my  lord  an- 
swered.    But  he  could  not  conceal  his  gloom. 

"  He  must  be  arrested,"  said  the  King.  "A  warrant 
must  be  issued.     Will  you  see  to  it  with  the  others?  " 

My  lord  assented;  but  with  such  a  sigh  that  it  required 
no  wizard  to  discern  both  the  cloud  that  hung  over  him, 
and  also  that  now  he  had  done  what  Ferguson  had  dared 
him  to  do,  the  consequences  lay  heavy  on  him.  The 
King,  after  considering  him  a  moment  with  a  singular 
expression,  between  amusement  and  reproach,  broke  the 
silence. 

"See  here,  my  lord,"  he  said  with  good  nature.  "I 
will  tell  you  what  to  do.  Sit  down  now,  and  here,  and 
write  a  line  to  Monsieur,  bidding  him  begone;  and  send 


SHREWSBUBY  213 

it  by  a  private  hand,  and  the  warrant  by  a  messenger  an 
hour  later." 

The  Duke  stared  at  the  King  in  astonishment.  "  But 
he  will  escape,  sir,"  he  faltered. 

"So  much  the  better,"  the  King  answered  indiffer- 
ently. "If  we  take  him  what  are  we  to  do  with  him? 
Besides,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  lord,  he  did  me  a  great 
service  eight  years  ago." 

"He,  sir?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  King  smiling.  "He  induced  his 
father  to  fly  the  country,  when,  if  he  had  stayed — but 
you  know  that  story.  So  do  you  warn  him,  and  the 
sooner  he  is  beyond  La  Manche  the  better. ' ' 

The  Duke  looked  unhappy.  "I  dare  not  do  it,  sir," 
he  said  at  last,  after  a  pause. 

' '  Dare  not  do  it  ?    When  I  authorise  it  ?    Why  not  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Because  if  I  were  impeached  by  the  Com- 
mons  " 

The  King  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Ah,  these  safeguards!"  he  muttered.  "These 
town  councils,  and  provincial  councils,  and  States-Gen- 
eral! And  now  these  Commons  and  Lords!  Shall  I  ever 
be  quit  of  them  ?  Well,  there  is  but  one  way  then.  I 
must  do  it.  If  they  impeach  me,  I  go  back  to  Loo;  and 
they  may  stew  in  their  own  juice!  " 

He  rose  witli  that,  and  moving  stiffly  to  the  table  at 
Avhich  Lord  Portland  had  been  writing  when  we  entered, 
he  sought  for  and  found  a  pen.  Then  sitting  in  the  chair 
which  the  Groom  of  the  Stole  had  left  vacant,  he  tore  a 
slip  of  paper  from  a  folio  before  him  and,  writing  some 
lines  on  it — about  six,  as  far  as  I  could  judge — handed 
the  paper  to  the  Duke,  who  had  remained  standing  at  a 
formal  distance. 

"  Yoila,  Monsieur,"  he  said.  "Will  that  suit  your 
lordshij)  ?  " 

The  Duke  took  it  respectfully  and  looked  at  it.    "  But, 


214  SHREWSBURY 

sir,  it  is  in  my  name!  "  he  cried,  aghast.  "And  bears 
my  signature." 

''Ell,  Men,  why  not?"  his  Majesty  answered  lightly. 
"The  name  is  the  name  of  Jacob,  but  the  hand  is  the 
hand  of  Esau.  Take  it  and  send  it  by  a  trusty  messen- 
ger. Perhaps  the  man  who  came  with  you,  and  who — 
pheugh,  my  lord!  I  had  forgotten  that  this  person  was 
here!     We  have  spoken  too  freely." 

The  oath  which  the  Duke  let  fall  as  he  turned,  and 
the  face  of  dismay  and  anger  with  which  he  gazed  on  me, 
were  proof  enough  that  he  shared  the  King's  opinion,  as 
he  had  shared  his  mistake.  For  a  moment,  the  two  glar- 
ing at  me  with  equal  disgust  and  vexation,  I  thought 
I  should  sink  into  the  floor.  Then  the  King  beckoned 
me  to  come  forward,  and  I  obeyed  him. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

The  odd  and  unexpected  glimpse  of  generosity  which 
the  King  had  allowed  to  escape  him,  in  his  interview 
with  the  Duke,  somewhat  lessened  the  fears  I  must  other- 
wise have  entertained  at  that  moment.  To  which  must 
be  added  that  I  am  one  of  those  who,  when  violence  and 
physical  danger  are  not  in  question,  retain  a  fair  mastery 
of  their  minds.  Nevertheless,  I  am  free  to  confess  that 
as  I  went  forward,  I  wished  myself  anywhere  else  in  the 
world,  and  would  have  sacrificed  half  my  remaining 
economies  to  be  seated,  pen  in  hand,  and  obscurely  safe, 
in  Mr.  Brome's  room. 

But  the  thing  took  a  turn  which  relieved  me  when  I 
least  expected  it.  As  I  approached,  the  chagrin  in  the 
King's  face  gave  place  to  a  look  of  surprise;  and  that 
again,  but  more  slowly,  to  one  of  intelligence.     "Ah! 


SHREWSBURY  215 

Je  me  fro7n])ais ! ''''  he  muttered  rapidly.  ''What  did 
you  say  his  name  was  ?  " 

"Price,"  the  Duke  answered,  continuing  to  glower  at 
me. 

"  Price  ?  A  h,  cela  va  sans  dire  !  But — he  is  a  cadet — 
a  dependent  ?  He  is  in  some  Avay  connected — how  do  you 
say  it — related  to  your  family ! ' ' 

"  Tamine,  sir!  "  the  Duke  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  the 
utmost  astonishment;  and  he  drew  himself  u^  as  if  the 
King  had  jiricked  him, 

"  N'est-ce  pas  f a  ?  "  his  Majesty  rej^lied,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other  of  us.  "'Yet  he  has  so  much  a  look 
of  you  that  it  might  be  possible  in  some  lights  to  take 
him  for  your  grace,  were  he  differently  dressed!  " 

The  Duke  looked  purely  offended.  "Your  Majesty 
is  under  a  strange  misapprehension,"  he  said,  very 
stiffly.  "If  this  person  resembles  me — of  which  I  was 
not  aware — I  know  nothing  of  the  cause;  and  the  like- 
ness for  what  it  is  worth,  must  be  accidental.  As  a  fact, 
I  never  saw  him  but  once  before  in  my  life,  sir,  and  that 
perfectly  by  chance."  And  he  very  briefly  related  the 
circumstances  under  which  we  came  together. 

The  King  listened  to  the  story,  but  as  if  he  scarcely 
believed  it;  and  he  smiled  when  the  Duke  came  to  tell 
how  he  allowed  me  to  escape.  Then,  "  And  you  have 
never  seen  him  from  that  day  to  this?  "  he  said  incredu- 
lously. 

"Never!  "  said  the  Duke,  positively.  "But  it  is  not 
my  intention  to  lose  sight  of  him  again." 

"Ah?"  the  King  said. 

"I  have  not  told  you,  sir,  all  tliat  happened,"  the 
Duke  continued,  reading,  I  think,  the  King's  thoughts, 
"But  briefly.  Mr.  Ferguson,  who  has  come  to  be  little 
short  of  a  madman,  drew  a  pistol  on  me  at  the  close  of 
our  interview;  and  ])nt  for  his  friend  here — who  had 
been  placed  to  listen,  but  at  that  broke  from  his  place  of 


216  SHREWSBURY 

hiding  and  knocked  up  the  muzzle,  so  that  it  exploded 
harmlessly — I  should  have  come  off  ill." 

"  And  I  not  much  better,"  the  King  said,  nodding  and 
looking  grave.     ''  You  are  unhurt." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  that  puts  another  face  on  it;  and  if  you  are 
retaining  him  beside  you,  what  he  has  now  heard  will  be 
of  the  less  importance.  Hark  you,  my  friend,"  he  con- 
tinued, addressing  me,  "  can  you  keep  your  mouth  shut  ?  " 

I  said  humbly  that  I  could  and  would. 

"Then,  Taisez!  TaisezT''  he  answered  emphatically. 
"And  take  this  letter  to  Hogsden  Gardens  to  Bishop 
Lloyd's.  See  Bishop  Lloyd  and  jout  it  in  his  hands.  Say 
nothing,  give  no  message,  but  go  to  your  master's  in  St. 
James's  Square.  Will  you  seal  it,  Duke,  with  a  plain 
seal  ?  Good.  And  go  you  out,  man,  by  the  way  you 
came  in,  and  answer  no  questions.  And  now  for  the 
council  and  the  warrants,  my  lord.  We  have  lost  too 
much  time  already!  " 

To  say  that  I  went  from  the  presence  without  knowing 
how  I  did  it,  and  when  I  reached  the  courtyard  had  no 
more  idea  how  I  had  gained  it,  or  by  what  staircase  I  had 
descended,  than  if  I  had  been  blind,  is  but  the  truth; 
nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  at  when  the  amazing  thing  which 
had  happened  to  me  is  in  the  least  degree  taken  into  con- 
sideration. In  truth  I  walked  on  air  and  saw  nothing,  I 
was  so  deeply  overjoyed;  and  though  it  is  certain  that  as 
I  went  out  I  met  one  and  another,  passed  the  sentries, 
and  ran  the  gauntlet  of  curious  eyes — for  who  that  quits 
a  court  escapes  that  ordeal  ? — I  was  no  more  conscious  of 
the  observations  made  upon  me,  or  the  surprise  I  excited 
as  I  went  by,  than  if  I  had  really  walked  in  the  clouds. 
Issuing  from  the  gates  I  took  by  instinct  rather  than 
design  the  road  to  London,  and  hugging  to  my  breast  the 
letter  which  the  King — the  King! — had  entrusted  to  me, 
made  the  best  of  my  way  towards  Tyburn. 


SHREWSBURY  217 

I  had  been  wiser  had  I  gone  by  the  other  road  through 
the  village  and  taken  the  first  coach  I  found;  there  are 
commonly  one  or  two  at  Kensington  waiting  to  carry  pas- 
sengers to  London.  But  in  the  fluster  of  my  spirits,  I 
did  not  measure  the  distance  I  had  to  go,  or  the  time 
I  should  consume  in  walking.  My  main  anxiety  for  the 
moment  was  to  be  alone;  alone,  and  at  leisure  to  probe 
my  fortune  and  success,  and  appreciate  both  the  relief 
and  the  good  luck  I  had  compassed.  I  could  have  sung 
as  I  walked;  I  could  have  skipped  and  danced;  and  a 
gleam  of  sunshine  breaking  the  March  sky,  and  gilding 
the  leafless  arms  of  the  trees  and  the  flat  green  pastures 
that  border  the  road  north  of  Hyde  Park,  I  was  moved 
to  raise  my  hat  and  look  upwards  and  reverently  thank 
Providence  for  this  wonderful  instance  of  its  goodness, 
which  I  had  not  had  the  heart  to  do  for  some  time. 

When  I  descended  a  little  to  earth — a  step  which  was 
hastened  by  a  flash  of  recollection  that  showed  me  Fergu- 
son's niece  waiting  at  Clerkenwell  Gate,  a  little  figure, 
forlorn  and  desolate,  yet  with  eyes  of  wrath  and  a  face 
puckered  with  determination — when  I  came  I  say  a  little 
to  myself  and  to  think  of  Hogsden  Gardens,  and  remem- 
bered that  it  lay  on  the  farther  side  of  town  by  Bunhill 
Fields,  I  was  already  at  Tyburn  turning;  and  it  seemed 
to  be  no  longer  worth  while  to  ride.  The  day  was  on  the 
wane,  and  the  road  thence  to  St.  Giles's  Pound  was  lively 
with  persons  come  out  to  take  the  air,  through  whom  I 
threaded  my  way  at  a  good  pace,  and  coming  to  Holborn 
without  mishap,  turned  up  Cow  Lane,  and  so  got  speedily 
to  Smithfield,  and  across  the  market  to  Long  Lane,  know- 
ing my  way  so  far  without  having  need  to  ask. 

Here,  however,  I  took  sudden  fright.  My  mind, 
which  as  I  walked  had  been  busy  with  the  girl  and  the 
stej)s  I  should  take  to  find  her — if  indeed  I  wished  to 
find  her,  about  which  I  was  puzzled,  the  surrounding  cir- 
cumstances being  so  difl'erent — was  invaded  by  the  notion 


218  SHREWSBURY 

that  I  had  been  long  on  the  road.  To  this  was  added 
next  moment  the  reflection  that  messengers  sent  to  arrest 
the  Duke  could  by  taking  a  coach  forestall  me.  The 
thought  threw  me  into  a  hot  fit,  which  increased  on  me 
when  I  considered  that  I  did  not  know  the  remainder  of 
the  road,  and  might  waste  much  time  in  tracing  it.  Natu- 
rally my  first  impulse  in  this  strait  was  to  seek  a  guide; 
but  Long  Lane  by  Smithfield  is  only  one  degree  better 
than  Whetstone  Park,  and  I  shrank  from  applying  to  the 
sots  and  drabs  who  stood  at  the  doors  and  corners,  or 
lounged  out  of  the  patched  windows,  and,  lazily  or  rudely, 
watched  me  go  by. 

In  this  diflficulty,  and  growing  the  more  diffident  and 
alarmed  the  more  slowly  I  walked,  I  looked  about  eagerly 
for  some  person,  of  passable  aspect,  of  whom  I  could  en- 
quire. I  saw  none,  and  my  uncertain  glances  and  loit- 
ering steps  were  beginning  to  draw  on  me  advances  and 
an  attention  that  were  anything  but  welcome,  when, 
reaching  a  corner  where  an  alley,  now  removed — I  think 
it  was  then  called  Dog  Alley — runs  out  of  Long  Lane,  I 
saw  a  man,  decently  habited,  come  out  of  a  house  a  little 
way  down  the  alley.  He  closed  the  door  sharply  behind 
him,  and,  as  I  looked,  went  off  in  the  opposite  direction. 

Here  was  my  opportunity.  Without  losing  a  moment 
I  ran  after  him,  and  he,  hearing  my  steps,  turned ;  and 
we  came  face  to  face.  Then,  when  it  was  too  late  to 
retreat,  I  saw  with  unutterable  dismay  that  the  man  I  had 
stopped  was  no  stranger,  but  the  person  who  had  dressed 
me  up  tlie  night  before  and  taken  me  to  the  mysterious 
house  in  the  suburbs;  the  man  called  Smith  whom  I  had 
first  seen  under  the  Piazza  in  Covent  Garden,  and  again 
in  Ferguson's  room. 

To  come  face  to  face  with  anyone  of  the  gang  with  the 
knowledge  that  I  had  but  now  left  the  palace  after  inform- 
ing against  them  was  of  itself  enough  to  make  my  knees 
tremble  under  me.     But  of  this  man,  though  his  civil 


SHREWSBURY  219 

treatment  liad  been  in  pleasant  contrast  to  Ferguson's 
brutality,  I  had  conceived  an  instinctive  dread,  based  as 
much  on  his  silence  and  reserve  and  a  sort  of  strict  power 
with  whicli  I  credited  him,  as  on  his  contemptuous  treat- 
ment of  my  tyrant.  In  a  word,  had  I  come  on  Ferguson 
himself  I  could  scarcely  have  been  more  overcome. 

On  hearing  my  footsteps  he  had  turned  on  me  very 
sharply,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  no  mind  to  be  fol- 
lowed, and  no  taste  for  followers.  But  on  seeing  who  it 
was  his  face  grew  light  and  he  whistled  his  surprise.  "  I 
was  on  my  way  to  you,"  he  said,  "and  here  you  are. 
That  is  good  luck.     I  suppose  Ferguson  sent  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  stammered,  avoiding  his  eyes,  and  wondering, 
with  inward  quakings,  what  was  going  to  happen  to  me. 
"  I — I  lost  my  road." 

"Oh!"  said  he,  and  looked  keenly  at  me.  "Lost 
your  road,  did  you  ?  Well,  it  was  very  much  to  the  pur- 
pose, as  it  happened.     May  I  ask  where  you  were  going  ?  " 

I  shifted  my  feet  uneasily.  "To  Bunhill  Fields,"  I 
said,  naming  the  first  place  of  which  I  could  think. 

"All!"  he  answered,  with  apparent  carelessness,  and 
though  it  seemed  scarcely  possible  ho  should  fail  to  ob- 
serve the  heat  and  disorder  into  which  his  presence  luid 
thrown  mo,  he  made  no  sign.  "  Well,  you  are  not  far 
out,"  he  continued,  "and  I  will  come  with  you.  When 
you  have  done  your  errand  we  will  talk  over  my  business. 
This  way.  I  know  this  end  of  the  town  well.  And  so 
it  was  not  Ferguson,"  he  added  with  a  sharp  look  at  me, 
"  who  sent  you  after  me  ?  " 

"No,"  I  said. 

"  Nor  his  errand  that  brought  you  here  ?  " 

"No,"  I  said  again,  my  mouth  dry.  "And  I  need 
not  give  you  the  trouble  to  come  with  me.  I  shall  be 
taking  you " 

"  Out  of  my  way?  Not  at  all,"  he  answered  briskly. 
"  And  it  is  no  trouble.     Come  along,  my  friend." 


220  SHREWSBURY 

I  dared  say  no  more,  nor  show  farther  rehictance;  and 
so,  with  feet  like  lead  and  eyes  roving  furtively  for  a  way 
of  escape,  I  turned  and  went  with  him.  Nay,  it  was  not 
my  feet  only  that  were  weighted ;  the  letter,  and  my  con- 
sciousness of  it,  lay  so  heavy  on  my  mind  that  it  was  like 
lead  in  the  pocket. 

I  was  indeed  in  a  strait  now!  And  in  one  so  difficult 
I  could  discern  no  way  out  of  it;  for  though  I  could  in 
\}2ivt,  and  in  part  only,  command  my  countenance,  I 
failed  absolutely  to  command  my  thoughts,  which  did 
nothing  but  revolve  tumultuously  about  the  words, 
"What  am  I  to  do?  What  am  I  to  do?"  words  that 
seemed  written  in  red  letters  on  my  brain.  Only  one 
thing  was  clear  to  me  in  the  confusion,  and  that  was  the 
urgent  necessity  I  lay  under  of  hiding  my  errand,  the 
disclosure  of  which  must  carry  with  it  the  disclosure  of 
the  place  whence  I  came  and  the  comf)any  I  had  been 
keeping.  With  time  to  think  and  coolness  to  distinguish 
I  should  doubtless  have  seen  the  possibility  of  announc- 
ing my  errand  to  the  Duke,  yet  laying  it  on  Ferguson's 
shoulders;  but  pushed  for  time  and  unable  at  a  pinch  to 
weigh  all  the  issues,  I  could  form  no  determination,  much 
less  one  leading  to  so  daring  a  step.  After  one  denial, 
that  is. 

In  the  meantime  we  moved  on;  and  at  first  my  com- 
panion seemed  to  be  unconscious  of  my  sluggish  pace 
and  my  perturbation.  But  presently  I  felt  rather  than 
saw  that  from  minute  to  minute  he  glanced  at  me  as- 
kance, and  that  after  each  of  these  inspections  he  laughed 
silently.  The  knowledge  that  I  lay  under  this  observa- 
tion immeasurably  increased  my  embarrassment.  I  could 
no  longer  put  a  fair  face  on  the  matter,  but  every  time  he 
looked  at  me  looked  away  guiltily,  unable  to  suj)port  his 
eyes.  This  presently  grew  so  insupportable  that  to  escape 
from  my  embarrassment  I  coughed  and  affected  to  choke. 

"  You  have  a  cold,  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  scarcely  eon- 


SHREWSBURY  221 

cealing  the  sneer  in  his  tone.  ''  And  yet  you  look  warm. 
You  must  have  walked  fast,  my  friend  ?  " 

I  muttered  that  I  had. 

"To  overtake  me,  perhaps!  It  was  good  of  you,"  he 
said  in  the  same  tone  of  secret  badinage.  "  But  we  are 
here.  What  part  of  the  Fields  do  you  want?  White- 
cross  Street?  " 

"No,"  I  muttered. 

"  Then  it  must  be  Baxter's  Kents." 

"No." 

"  Bunhill  Eow  ?  " 

"No." 

"No?  Well,  there  is  not  much  else  here,"  he  said; 
and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  "except  the  Fields  and 
the  burial-ground.  Your  business  does  not  lie  with  the 
latter,  I  suj-jpose  ?  " 

"No,"  I  said  faintly.     And  we  stood. 

At  another  time  I  must  have  shuddered  at  the  dreary 
expanse  on  this  uttermost  fringe  of  the  town  that 
stretched  before  us  under  a  waning  light;  an  expanse  of 
waste  land  broken  only  by  the  wall  of  the  burial-ground, 
or  the  ciiimney  of  a  brick-kiln,  and  bordered,  where  its 
limits  were  visible,  by  half-built  houses,  and  squatter 
huts,  and  vast  piles  of  refuse.  Ugly  as  the  prospect  was, 
however,  and  far  from  reassuring  to  the  timorous,  I  asked 
nothing  better  than  to  look  at  it.  and  look  at  it,  and  con- 
tinue to  look  at  it.  But  Mr.  Smith,  who  did  not  under- 
stand this  mood,  turned  with  an  impatient  laugh. 

"  I  suppose  that  you  did  not  come  here  to  look  at  that," 
said  he. 

Like  a  fool  I  jumj)ed  at  the  absurd,  the  flimsy  pretext. 

"  Yes,"  I  said.     "  I — I  merely  came  to  take  the  air." 

The  moment  the  words  were  spoken  I  trembled  at  my 
audacity.  But  he  took  it  better  than  I  expected,  for 
he  merely  paused  to  stare  at  me,  and  then  chuckled 
grimly. 


323  SHREWSBURY 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  then,  now  that  you  have  taken  the 
air  let  us  go  back.  Have  you  anything  to  object  to  that, 
Mr.  Taylor?" 

I  could  find  nothing. 

"I  will  come  with  you,"  he  continued.  "I  want  to 
see  Ferguson,  and  we  can  settle  my  business  there." 

But  this  only  presented  to  me  a  dreadful  vision  of  Fer- 
guson, released  from  his  bonds,  and  mad  with  rage  and 
the  desire  to  avenge  himself;  and  I  stopped  short. 

"  I  am  not  going  there,"  I  said. 

"No?  Then  where,  may  I  ask,  are  you  going?"  he 
answered,  watching  me  with  a  placid  amusement,  which 
made  it  as  clear  as  the  daylight,  that  he  saw  through  my 
evasions.     "  Where  is  it  my  lord's  pleasure  to  go  ?  " 

"To  Brome's,  in  Fleet  Street,"  I  said  hoarsely.  And 
if  lie  had  had  his  back  to  me  at  that  instant,  and  I  a 
knife  in  my  hand,  I  could  have  run  him  through!  For 
as  I  said  it,  and  he  with  mocking  suavity  assented,  and 
we  stepped  out  together  to  return  the  way  we  had  come 
through  Long  Lane — over  which  the  sky  hung  low  in  a 
dull  yellow  haze,  the  last  of  the  western  light — I  had  a 
swift  and  stinging  recollection  of  the  King  and  my  lord, 
and  the  letter,  and  the  passage  of  time;  and  could  have 
sprung  from  his  side,  and  poured  out  curses  on  him  in 
the  impotence  of  my  rage  and  impatience.  For  the  hour 
of  grace  which  the  King  had  granted  was  gone,  and  a 
second  was  passing,  and  still  the  letter  that  should  warn 
the  Duke  of  Berwick  lay  in  my  pocket,  and  I  saw  no 
chance  of  delivering  it. 

That  Smith  discerned  the  chagrin  wliich  this  enforced 
companionship  caused  me — though  not  the  ground  of  it 
— was  as  plain  as  that  the  fact  gave  him  pleasure  of  no 
common  kind.  I  had  no  longer  such  a  command  of  my 
features  that  I  could  trust  myself  to  look  at  him;  but  I 
was  conscious,  using  some  other  sense,  that  he  frequently 
looked  at  me,  and  always  after  these  insj)ections,  smiled 


SHREWSBURY  223 

like  a  man  who  finds  something  to  his  taste.  And  I 
hated  him. 

How  long  with  these  feelings  I  could  have  borne  to  go 
with  him,  or  what  I  should  have  done  in  the  last  resort 
had  he  continued  the  same  tactics,  remains  nnproved;  for 
at  the  same  corner  half-way  down  Long  Lane,  where  1 
had  first  espied  him,  he  paused.  "  I  want  to  go  in 
here,'.'  he  said  coolly.  "I  need  only  detain  you  a 
moment,  Mr,  Taylor." 

"I  will  wait  for  you,"  I  muttered,  tingling  all  over 
with  sudden  hope.  Wliile  he  was  inside  I  could  run 
for  it. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.     "  This  way." 

I  fancied  that  he  suspected  nothing,  and  that  perhaps 
I  had  been  wrong  throughout;  and  overjoyed  I  went 
with  him  to  the  door  of  the  house  from  which  I  had  seen 
him  emerge;  my  intention  being  to  begone  hotfoot  the 
instant  his  back  was  turned.  The  house  was  three- 
storied  high,  narrow  and  commonplace,  one  of  a  row  not 
long  built,  and  but  partially  inhabited.  Apparently  he 
was  at  home  there,  for  taking  a  key  from  his  pocket,  he 
opened  the  door;  and  stood  aside  for  me  to  enter. 

"  I  will  wait,"  I  muttered. 

"Very  well.     Yon  can  wait  inside,"'  he  answered. 

If  I  had  been  wise  I  should  have  turned  there  and 
then,  in  the  open  street,  and  taking  to  my  heels  have 
run  for  my  life  and  stayed  for  nothing.  But,  partly 
fool  and  partly  craven,  clinging  to  a  hope  which  was 
scarcely  a  belief,  that  when  he  went  upstairs  or  into  an- 
other room,  I  might  stealthily  unlatch  the  door  and 
begone,  I  let  myself  be  persuaded ;  and  I  entered.  The 
moment  I  had  done  so,  he  whipped  out  the  key  and 
thrusting  the  door  to  with  his  shoulder,  locked  it  on  the 

inside. 

Then  the  man  threw  off  all  disguise.  He  turned  with 
a  laugh  of  triumph  to  where  I  stood  treinl)liug  in  the 


224  SHREWSBURY 

half-dark  passage.  "Now/'  he  said,  "we  will  have 
that  letter,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Taylor.  I  have  a  fancy  to 
see  what  is  in  it." 

"The  letter!"  I  faltered. 

"Yes,  the  letter!" 

"I  have  no  letter,"  I  said. 

"Tut-tut,  letter  or  no  letter,  out  with  it!  Do  you 
tliink  I  could  not  see  you  touching  your  breast  every  half 
minute,  to  make  sure  that  you  had  it  safe — and  not  know 
what  was  in  the  wind!  You  are  a  poor  j^lotter,  Mr. 
Taylor,  and  I  doubt  if  you  will  ever  be  of  any  use  to  me. 
But  come,  out  with  it!  Unless  you  want  me  to  be  rough 
with  you.  Out  with  whatever  it  is  you  have  there,  aud 
no  tricks!" 

He  had  a  way  with  him  Avheu  he  spoke  in  that  tone, 
not  loudly  but  between  his  teeth,  his  eyes  at  the  same  time 
growing  towards  one  another,  that  was  worse  than  Fer- 
guson's pistol;  and  I  was  alone  with  him  in  an  emj^ty 
house.  Some,  who  would  have  done  what  I  did,  may 
blame  me;  but  in  the  main  the  world  is  sensible,  and  I 
shall  forfeit  no  prudent  man's  esteem  when  I  confess 
that,  after  one  attempt  at  evasion  which  he  met  by 
Avrenching  my  coat  open,  and  thrusting  me  against  the 
Avail  so  violently  that  my  head  spun  again,  I  gave  up 
the  letter. 

"  I  warn  you !  I  warn  you !  "  I  cried,  in  a  paroxysm  of 
rage  and  grief.  "It  is  for  the  Duke  of  Berwick,  and  if 
you  open  it " 

"For  the  Duke  of  Berwick?"  he  answered,  pausing 
and  gazing  at  me  with  his  finger  on  the  seal.  "  Why, 
you  fool,  why  did  you  not  tell  me  that  before?  From 
whom  ?     From  that  scum,  Ferguson  ?  " 

"From  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury,"  I  cried,  rendered 
reckless  by  my  rage. 

"What?"  he  cried,  in  a  voice  of  extraordinary  sur- 
prise. 


NOW    Wli    WILL    HAVE    THAT    LETTER,  IF   YOU    PLEASE 

15 


SHREWSBURY  227 

"From  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury,"  I  repeated;  think- 
ing that  he  had  not  understood  me. 

"  My  God!  "  he  said,  with  a  deep  breath.  "  And  have 
I  caught  the  fox  at  last!  " 

"You  are  more  likely  to  be  caught  yourself !  "  I  an- 
swered, furiously. 

Nevertheless,  his  words  were  a  puzzle  to  me;  but  his 
tone  of  slow  growing,  almost  incredulous  triumph  told 
something.  Taking  very  little  heed  of  me,  and  merely 
signing  to  me  to  follow  him,  he  sprang  up  the  stairs, 
and  opening  a  door  led  the  way  into  a  back-  room  bare 
and  miserable,  but  lighted  by  the  last  yellow  glow  of  the 
western  sky.  It  was  possible  to  read  here,  and  without  a 
moment's  hesitation  he  broke  the  seal  of  the  letter,  and 
tearing  the  packet  open,  read  the  contents. 

That  the  perusal  gave  him  immense  satisfaction  his 
face,  which  in  the  level  light,  cast  by  the  window,  seemed 
to  gleam  with  unholy  joy,  was  witness,  no  less  than  his 
movements.  Flourishing  the  letter  in  uncontrollable 
excitement  he  twice  strode  the  floor,  muttering  un- 
formed sentences.  Then  he  looked  at  the  paper  again 
and  his  jaw  fell.  "But  it  is  not  his  hand!  "  he  cried, 
staring  at  it  in  very  plain  dismay.  And  then  recovering 
himself  afresh,  "  Xo  matter,"  he  said.  "  It  is  his  name, 
and  the  veriest  fool  would  have  used  another  hand.  Is 
it  yours  ?     Did  you  write  it,  blockhead  ?  " 

"No,"  I  said. 

"No!  But  now  I  think  of  it — thousand  devils,  how 
came  you  by  it  ?     By  this — eh  ?  "  he  rapped  out.     "  This 

letter?     AVhat  d d  hocus  pocus  is  here?     What  have 

you  to  do  with  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury,  that  he  makes 
you  his  messenger  ?  " 

He  bent  his  brows  on  me,  and  I  knew  that  I  had  never 
been  in  greater  danger  in  my  life.  Yet  something  of 
evil  came  to  me  in  this  extremity.  Comprehending  that 
if  I  said  I  came  from  Kensington  I  might  expect  the 


228  SHREWSBURY 

worst,  I  lied  to  him;  yet  used  the  truth  where  it  suited 
me.     "  The  Duke  came  to  Ferguson's,"  I  said. 

"  To  Ferguson's  ?  "  he  answered,  staring  at  me. 

"Yes,  and  bade  him  get  that  to  the  Duke,  for  his 
lodging  was  known  and  warrants  would  be  out." 

Smith  clapped  his  hands  together  softly.  "What!" 
he  cried.  "Is  he  in  it  as  deep  as  that?  Oh,  the  cun- 
ning! Oh,  the  cunning  of  him!  And  I  to  be  goiug  to 
all  this  trouble,  and  close  on  despair  at  that!  And — Fer- 
giTson  gave  you  the  letter  ?  " 

"They  both  did." 

"That  old  fox,  too!  And  I  was  beginning  to  think 
him  a  bygone!  Yet  he  beats  us  all !  he  beats  us  all!  Or 
he  would  have  beaten  us  if  he  had  not  trusted  this  silly. 
But  I  am  forgetting.  The  Duke  must  be  warned — if  he 
has  not  started.  When  was  this  given  to  you,  Mr.  Trusty 
Taylor?" 

"  Two  hours  ago,"  I  said,  sullenly. 

I  was  pleased  to  see  that  that  alarmed  him.  "You 
fool!  "  he  said,  "  why  did  you  not  tell  me  at  once  what 
you  had  got,  and  whither  you  were  going  ?  If  the  Duke 
is  taken  it  will  lie  at  your  door.  And  if  he  is  saved,  it 
will  be  to  my  credit." 

"  I  will  come  with  you,"  I  said,  plucking  up  a  spirit  as 
I  saw  him  about  to  leave. 

"No,  you  will  not,"  he  answered,  drily.  "I  am 
much  obliged  to  you,  but  I  prefer  to  gain  the  credit  and 
tell  the  tale  my  own  way.  You  will  stay  here,  Mr.  Tay- 
lor, and  when  the  Duke  is  away  I'll  come  and  release 
you.  In  the  meantime  I  would  advise  you  to  keep  quiet. 
Hoity-toity,  what  is  this  ?  "  he  continued,  as  in  my  despair 
I  tried  to  jiush  by  him,  "  Go  back,  you  fool,  or  it  will 
be  the  worse  for  you.     You  are  not  going  out." 

And,  resisting  all  my  appeals  and  remonstrances,  he 
thrust  me  forcibly  from  the  door;  and  whip^ung  outside 
it,  locked  it  on  me.     In  vain  I  hammered  on  it  with  my 


SHREWSBURY  229 

fist  auci  called  after  him,  and  threatened  him.  He  clat- 
tered unheeding  down  the  stair,  and  I  heard  the  house- 
door  slammed  and  locked.  I  listened  a  moment,  but  all 
remained  quiet;  and  then,  wild  with  rage,  I  turned  to 
the  window,  thinking  that  by  that  way  I  might  still  escape. 
Alas,  it  looked  only  into  a  walled  yard,  and  was  strongly 
barred  to  boot. 

God  knows  I  tliought  myself  then  the  most  unlucky  of 
men;  a  man  ruined  when  on  the  point  of  a  great  and 
seemingly  assured  success.  I  flung  myself  down  in  my 
despair,  and  could  have  dashed  my  head  against  the 
boards.  But  present!}',  in  the  midst  of  my  bewailing 
myself,  and  when  the  first  convulsive  fit  of  rage  was  abat- 
ing, a  new  thought  brought  me  to  my  feet  in  a  panic. 
What  if  Smith,  before  he  returned,  fell  in  with  Fergu- 
son ?  The  meeting  was  the  more  probable,  inasmuch  as, 
if  Ferguson  succeeded  in  freeing  himself,  he  was  as  likely 
to  hasten  to  the  Duke  of  Berwick  to  warn  him  as  to  do 
anything  else.  At  any  rate  I  was  not  inclined  to  sit 
weighing  the  chances  nicely,  but  hastening  frantically  to 
the  door,  I  tried  it  with  knee  and  shoulder.  To  my  joy 
it  yielded  somewhat;  on  which,  throwing  caution  aside, 
I  drew  back  and  flung  myself  against  it  with  all  my 
weight.  The  lock  gave  way,  and  the  door  flying  open,  I 
came  near  to  falling  headlong  down  the  stairs. 

Still,  I  had  succeeded.  But  I  soon  found  that  I  was 
little  nearer  freedom  than  before.  The  passage  was  now 
dark,  and  the  house-door,  when  I  found  my  way  to  it, 
resisted  all  my  efforts.  This  drove  me  to  seek  another 
egress,  which  it  was  far  from  easy  to  find.  At  length,  and 
by  dint  of  groping  about,  I  hit  on  a  door  which  led  into 
a  downstairs  room;  it  was  unlocked  and  I  entered,  feeling 
before  me  with  my  hands.  The  darkness,  the  silence  of 
the  empty  house,  and  my  hurry,  formed  a  situation  to 
appal  the  boldest;  but  I  was  desperate,  and  extending  my 
arms  I  trod  cautiously  across  the  room  to  where  the  win- 


330 


SHREWSBURY 


dow  should  be,  and  sought  for  and  found  the  shutters. 

I  tried  the  bar,  and  to 

. "  my  joy  felt  it  swing. 

I  let  it  down  softly- 
and  dragged  the  shut- 
ters open,  and  sweat- 
ing at  every  pore,  saw 
through  the  leaded 
panes  the  dark  dull 
lane  outside,  with  a 
faint  light  from  a 
neighbouring  window 
falling  on  the  wall  op- 
posite. 

I  was  seeking  for 
a  part  of  the  window 
that  opened,  and  won- 
dering whether,  fail- 
ing that,  I  should  have 
the  courage  to  burst 
the  casement  and  run 
for  it,  when  a  step  ap- 
proaching along  the 
lane  set  my  heart  beat- 
ing. The  step  came 
nearer  and  paused, 
and  peering  out,  my 
face  nearer  the  glass, 
I  saw  a  man  had  come 
to  a  stand  before  the 
door.  I  looked,  and 
then,  to  say  that  my 
knees  quivered  under 
me  but  faintly  ex- 
presses the  terror  I  felt  !  For  as  the  man  moved  he 
brought  himself  within  the  circle  of  light  I  have  nien- 


I    SAW   A   MAN    HAD    COME   TO    A    STAND 
BEFORE    THE    DOOR 


SHREWSBURY  331 

tioned,  and  at  the  same  time  he  raised  his  face,  doubtless 
after  searching  in  his  pocket  for  the  key;  and  through 
the  glass  my  eyes  met  those  of  Ferguson. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

If,  a  few  minutes  before,  I  had  thought  myself  the 
most  unlucky  of  men  and  j^laced  by  that  which  had  al- 
ready happened  beyond  fear  or  misfortune,  I  knew  better 
when  I  saw  that  siglit  from  the  window;  and  fell  back 
into  the  darkness,  as  if  even  from  the  road  and  through 
the  panes  Ferguson's  eyes  must  discover  me.  Ignorant 
whether  the  room  in  which  I  stood  contained  anything  to 
shelter  me,  or  barewalled  must  of  necessity  discover  me 
to  the  first  person  who  entered  with  a  light,  my  natural 
impulse,  when  the  moment  of  panic  passed,  was  to  escape 
from  it. 

But  it  was  not  easy  to  do  this  in  haste.  By  the  time 
that,  trembling  in  every  limb,  I  had  groped  my  way  into 
the  passage,  the  key  was  turning  in  the  lock  of  the  outer 
door,  and  I  saw  myself  Avithin  an  arm's  length  of  capture. 
This  so  terrified  mo  that  I  sprang  desperately  for  the  stair- 
case, but  stumbled  over  the  lowest  step,  and  fell  on  my 
knees  with  a  crash  that  seemed  to  shake  the  walls.  For 
a  moment  the  j)ain  was  so  sharp  that  I  could  only  lie 
where  I  fell ;  nor  when,  spurred  by  the  imminence  of  the 
danger,  I  had  got  to  my  feet,  could  I  do  more  than  crawl 
up  the  stairs  and  crouch  down  on  the  landing,  a  little  to 
one  side,  and  out  of  eye-shot  from  below. 

Willingly  now,  in  return  for  present  safety,  would  I 
have  forgiven  Fortune  all  her  past  buffets;  for  if  Fergu- 
son came  up,  as  I  thought  him  sure  to  come  up,  I  was 
lost;  since  I  could  neither  retreat  without  noise,  nor  if  I 


232  SHREWSBURY 

could,  knew  where  to  hide.  In  this  extremity,  my  heart 
beating  so  tliickly  that  I  could  scarcely  listen,  and  thought 
I  must  choke,  I  was  relieved  to  hear  Ferguson — after 
spending  what  seemed  to  me  to  be  an  age,  striking  flint 
and  steel  in  the  passage — go  grumbling  into  the  lower 
room,  whence  a  glimmer  falling  on  the  wall  of  the  passage 
told  me  that  he  had  at  last  succeeded  in  procuring  a  light. 

It  was  no  surprise  to  me  as  I  sweated  and  cringed  in  my 
hiding-place,  to  learn  that  he  was  in  the  worst  of  tem- 
pers. I  heard  him  swear — as  I  supposed — at  the  open 
shutter;  then,  almost  before  I  had  thanked  Providence  for 
present  safety,  he  was  out  again  in  the  passage.  I  made 
no  doubt  that  he  was  going  to  ascend  now,  and  I  gave 
myself  up  for  lost.  But  instead,  he  stood  and  called 
"Mary!  Mary!     Do  ye  hear,   you  hussy?       If    ye    are 

hiding  above  there,  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you,  ye  d d 

baggage!     Come  down,  d'ye  hear  me?  " 

Surely  now,  I  thought,  getting  no  answer,  he  would 
come  up,  and  my  heart  stood.  But  it  seemed  he  called 
only  to  make  sure,  and  not  because  he  thought  that  she 
was  above;  for  he  went  back  into  the  lower  room,  and  I 
heard  him  moving  to  and  fro,  and  going  about  to  light  a 
fire,  the  crackling  of  which  gave  an  odd  note  of  cheer- 
fulness in  the  house.  I  was  beginning  to  weigh  the  pos- 
sibility of  slipping  by  the  half-open  door,  on  the  chance 
of  finding  the  outer  door  unfastened;  and  with  this  in 
view,  had  risen  to  my  feet,  when  a  key  again  grated  in 
the  lock,  and  supposing  it  to  be  Smith,  I  returned  to  my 
former  position. 

Had  it  been  Smith,  it  would  have  been  some  comfort 
to  me;  for  I  thought  him  more  prudent  if  no  less  danger- 
ous than  the  plotter,  and  I  fancied  that  I  had  more  to 
fear  from  one  than  from  two.  But  the  step  that  entered 
was  lighter  than  a  man's,  while  Ferguson's  greeting  told 
the  rest  and  made  the  situation  clear. 

"  Ha,  you  are  here  at  last,  are  you!  "  he  cried  with  an 


SHREWSBURY  233 

angry  oath.  "  Did  you  want  me  to  break  every  bone  in 
your  body,  lass,  that  you  stayed  out  till  now,  and  I  to 
have  the  fire  to  light?  You  should  have  a  pretty  good 
tale  to  tell  or  have  kept  clear  of  this!  D'ye  hear  me? 
Speak,  you  viper,  and  don't  stand  there  glowering  like  a 
wood-cat!  " 

"I  am  here  now,"  was  the  answer.  My  heart  leapt, 
for  the  voice  was  Mary's;  the  tone,  sullen  and  weary,  I 
could  understand. 

"  Here  now!  "  he  retorted.  "  And  that  is  to  be  all,  is 
it?  Perhaps,  my  girl,  I  will  presently  show  you  two 
minds  about  that.     Where  is  the  baggage?  " 

"It  is  uot  here." 

"  Not  here  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  No,"  she  answered. 

"  And  why  not,  you  Jezebel  ?  " 

"You  need  not  misname  me,"  she  answered  coolly. 
"  I  was  followed  and  could  not  come  here;  and  I  could 
not  carry  it  about  with  me  all  day.  And  I  could  not 
send  it,  for  there  was  no  one  here  to  take  it  in.  It  is  at 
the  Spread  Eagle  in  Gracechurch  Street,  to  go  by  to- 
morrow's waggon  to  Colchester.  That  is  what  I  told 
them,  but  it  can  be  fetched  away  to-morrow." 

"If  I  did  not  think  you  were  a  big  liar,  girl?"  he 
answered  doubtfully;  but  I  knew  by  his  tone  that  he 
believed  her, 

"  You  may  think  what  3^ou  like,"  she  replied. 

"And  how  do  you  think  I  am  to  do  for  to-night?" 
he  answered  querulously. 

"You  must  do  as  you  can,"  she  said.  "You  have 
your  Hollands,  and  I  have  brought  some  bread  and 
meat. ' ' 

"  It  is  a  dog's  life,"  he  said,  with  a  snarl. 

"  It  is  the  life  you  choose,"  she  retorted  sharply. 

"  Pcste .'  "  he  answered  after  a  pause  of  sheer  astonish- 
ment at  her  audacity.     "'  What  is  it  to  you,  you  slut  ?  " 


234  SHREWSBURY 

"Why,  a  dog's  life  too!  and  not  of  my  choice!  "  she 
cried  passionately,  her  voice  breaking.  "  What  am  I 
better,  as  I  live,  than  an  orange  girl  in  the  streets  ?  What 
do  I  get,  and  walk  the  pavement  on  your  errands  night 
and  day  ?  AVhat  do  I  get  ?  And  always  hiding  and 
sneaking,  hiding  and  sneaking!     And  for  what  ?  " 

"  For  yonr  living,  yon  beggarly  baggage!  "  he  roared. 
"  AVho  feeds  yon  and  clothes  yon,  you  graceless  hussy? 
Who  boards  you  and  lodges  you,  and  finds  you  in  meat 
and  malt,  you  feckless  toad  ?     You  shameless " 

"Ay,  call  names!"  she  answered  bitterly — and  it  was 
not  hard  to  discern  that  she  was  beside  herself  with  the 
long  sick  waiting  and  the  disappointment.  "It  is  what 
you  are  good  for!  It  is  all  that  your  plots  end  in!  Call 
names,  and  you  are  happy!  But  I  am  tii'ed,  and  tired  of 
it,  I  tell  you.  I  am  tired  of  bare  boards  and  hiding,  and 
all  for  what  ?  For  those  that,  when  you  have  brought 
them  back,  you  will  be  as  fierce  to  oust  as  you  are  now  to 
restore!  And  shameless  it  is  you  call  me?"  she  contin- 
ued with  feverish  rapidity.  "Shameless?  Have  you  not 
sent  me  out  into  the  streets  a  hundred  times,  and  close  on 
midnight,  and  not  a  thought  or  care  wdiat  would  happen 
to  me  so  long  as  your  letter  went  safe  ?  Have  you  not 
sent  me  where  to  be  taken  was  to  be  jailed  and  whijoped, 
and  not  a  thought  of  pity  or  what  a  life  it  was  for  a 
girl?  Have  you  not  done  this  and  more?"  she  contin- 
ued, breathless  with  passion.  "  And  more?  And  yet  you 
take  praise  for  feeding  me!  And  call  me  graceless  and 
shameless." 

She  paused  and  gave  him  room  to  speak,  but  though 
he  put  on  a  show  of  bluster  it  was  evident  her  violence 
alarmed  him.  "  Odd's  name,  and  what  is  all  this  ?  "  he 
said.  "  What  ails  the  girl  ?  What  has  set  you  up  now, 
you  vixen?  " 

"You!"  she  cried  vehemently.  "You  and  your 
trade!" 


SHREWSBURY  235 

"  Well,"  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  sullen  reasonableness, 
"  and  what  is  the  matter  with  the  trade  ?  What  is  wrong 
with  the  trade,  I  say  ?  I'll  tell  you  this,  ray  lass,  you 
would  live  badly  without  it." 

"I  would  live  honestly,"  she  cried.  "And  as  my 
father  lived!  " 

'•  You  drab!  "  he  cried.     "  Leave  that  alone." 

At  that,  and  when  judging  from  the  tone  of  his  voice 
I  expected  him  to  break  out  with  fresh  oaths  and  curses, 
there  was  instead  an  astonishing  silence,  which  fell  for  me 
at  an  nnlucky  moment,  for  forgetting,  in  my  desire  to 
see  as  well  as  hear,  the  risk  I  ran,  I  had  crept  down  the 
stairs,  and  now  lacked  but  a  pace  of  seeing  into  the  room. 
The  noise  ceasing,  I  dared  neither  take  that  step  nor 
retreat;  and  it  was  only  when  the  silence  had  continued 
so  long  that  curiosity  overcame  fear,  that  I  ventured  tlie 
advance,  and  looking  in,  saw  that  the  girl,  her  fire  and 
fury  gone,  was  leaning  against  the  wall  beside  the  hearth, 
her  face  averted;  while  Ferguson  himself,  in  an  attitude 
of  dejection  scarcely  less  marked,  stood  near  her,  his  head 
bowed  and  his  blood-shot  eyes  fixed  on  the  fire. 

"Ay,  he  lived  honesth^,  your  father,"  he  muttered  at 
last.  "  It  is  true,  my  lass.  I  grant  it.  But  he  had  a 
fair  wind,  had  Alan,  and  a  short  course;  and  if  he  had 
lived  to  be  sixty,  God  knows!  We  are  what  we  are  made. 
I  mind  hiui  well,  and  the  burn  we  fished  and  the  pickle 
things  we  took  out,  and  your  mother  that  played  with  ns 
in  her  cutty  sark,  and  not  a  shoe  between  us  nor  a  bodle 
of  money;  but  the  green  hills  round  us,  and  all  we  knew 
of  the  world  that  it  lay  beyond  them.  And  that  was  all 
your  father  ever  knew,  my  lass.  And  well  for  him!  Ay, 
well  for  him!  But  woe's  me,  and  woe  to  the  man  who 
took  my  living,  and  woe  to  the  evil  King!  " 

His  voice  was  beginning  to  rise  ;  in  a  moment  he  would 
have  reached  his  usual  pitch  of  denunciation,  of  which 
even  now  some  of  his  many  writings  afford  a  pale  reflcc- 


236  SHREWSBURY 

tiou;  but  at  the  word  King  there  came  a  sharp  knocking 
at  the  door,  and  lie  paused.  For  me,  I  turned  in  a 
panic,  and,  heedless  what  noise  I  made,  hurried  up  the 
stairs.  The  steps  creaked  under  me,  but  fortunately  the 
knocking  was  repeated  so  quickly  and  persistently  that  it 
covered  the  sound  of  my  llight;  and  before  I  had  more 
than  ensconced  myself  in  the  old  place,  Ferguson,  doubt- 
less in  obedience  to  some  signal,  was  at  the  door  and  had 
opened  it. 

Immediately  half-a-dozen  men  poured  noisily  in,  breath- 
ing hard  and  growling  in  low  tones,  and  passed  into  the 
room  below.  But  until  the  outer  door  was  closed  and 
secured,  nothing  I  could  catch,  though  fear  sharpened 
my  ears,  was  said.  Then,  as  Ferguson  went  in  after 
them,  one  of  the  newcomers  raised  his  voice  in  answer  to 
a  question,  and  cried  with  a  rattling  oath,  "  What  is  up  ? 
What  is  up,  old  fox  ?  Why,  all  is  up  !  And  we'll  all 
swing  for  it  before  the  month  is  over,  if  we  cannot  clear 
out  to-night!  You  are  a  clever  one,  Mr.  Ferguson,  but 
you  are  caught  this  time,  with  better  men.  God!  if  I 
had  the  sneak  here  that  peached  on  us,  I  would  cut  his 
liver  out!     I  would " 

Two  or  three  voices  joined  in  to  the  same  tune  and 
drowned  his  Avords,  one  asking  where  Prendergast  was, 
another  where  Porter  was,  a  third  indulging  in  threats 
so  horrid  and  blasphemies  so  profane  that  I  turned  cold 
where  I  crouched.  I  began  to  understand  Avhat  had 
happened,  and  my  situation;  but  that  nothing  might  be 
spared  me  Ferguson,  in  a  quavering  voice  that  proved  all 
was  news  to  him,  asked  again  what  was  the  matter. 

"  The  Blues  are  moved,"  cried  three  or  four  at  once. 
"  They  were  marching  out  when  we  left.  The  guards  at 
Kensington  are  doubled,  and  the  orders  for  the  King's 
hunting  to-morrow  are  cancelled.  They  were  hurrying 
to  and  fro  calling  the  Council  when  we  came  away,  and 
messengers  were  beginning  to  go  round  the  taverns." 


SHREWSBURY  237 

"  And  they  have  seized  the  horses  at  the  King  of  Bohe- 
mia's Head,"  added  another,   "  so  they  know  a  lot." 

"  Bnt  is  it — certain?"  Ferguson  asked,  with  a  break 
in  his  voice. 

"  Ay,  as  certain  as  that  we  shall  hang  if  we  do  not  get 
over!  "  was  the  brntal  answer. 

"And  the  Captain?" 

"  I- have  been  at  his  lodgings.  He  has  not  been  heard 
of  since  noon.  He  ordered  his  horse  then  and  they  say 
took  the  road;  and  hell  to  it,  if  that  is  so,  he  is  half  way 
to  France  by  this!  And  safe!  Safe,  you  devils,  and  we 
are  left  here  caught  like  rats!  " 

"Ay,  we'll  go  farther  than  France!"  one  shrieked. 
"  As  for  me  I  am  off.     I  shall " 

"No,  by  God,  you  don't  !  "  ci'ied  another;  and  flung 
himself,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  between  him  and  the  door. 
"  You  don't  go  and  sell  the  rest  of  us,  and  save  your 
own  neck.     You " 

"  Where  is  Porter?  "  a  third  struck  in. 

"And  Prendergast?" 

"  They  are  not  here!  Nor  Sir  William!  Nor  Friend! 
So  what  is  the  good  of  talking  like  that?  " 

"He  will  make  a  fat  hang,  will  Sir  William!"  said 
one,  with  a  mad  laugh  that  died  in  his  throat.  "  It  Avill 
cure  his  gout." 

At  that,  one  of  the  others  cried  with  furious  oaths  for 
liquor;  and  I  judged  that  Ferguson  gave  them  of  his 
Hollands.  But  it  was  little  among  so  many,  and  was 
gone  in  a  moment,  and  they  calling  for  more.  "  There 
is  a  keg  upstairs,"  said  he.  "  In  the  back-room.  But 
get  it  for  yourselves.  You  have  hung  me.  To  think 
that  I  should  have  played  the  game  with  such  fools." 

They  laughed  recklessly,  a  savage  note  in  their  voices. 
"Ay,  you  should  have  stuck  to  your  pen,  old  fox,"  one 
cried.  "  Then  it  was  only  the  printer  hung.  But  we'll 
drink  your  health  before  you  swing.      Up,  Keyes,  and 


238  SHREWSBURY 

fetch  tlie  stuff.  It  may  be  bad,  but  we'll  drink  to  the 
squeezing  of  the  rotten  orange  once  more;  if  it  be  the 
last  toast  I  drink!  " 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

The  terror  that  had  gripped  me  on  their  first  entrance, 
and  driving  all  the  blood  in  my  body  to  my  heart  had 
there  set  it  bounding  madly — this  terror  I  should  vainly 
try  to  describe  to  persons  who  have  never  been  in  such  a 
situation  or  within  a  few  feet  of  death,  as  I  then  found 
myself.  That,  reckless  and  driven  to  the  wall,  the  con- 
spirators would  sacrifice  me  to  their  vengeance  if  they 
discovered  me  I  felt  certain;  and  at  any  moment  they 
might  come  up  and  discover  me.  Yet  behind  me  were 
the  confining  walls  of  the  rooms  whence  I  knew  of  no 
exit,  ajid  before  me,  where  alone  evasion  seemed  to  be 
possible,  the  open  door  of  the  room  below,  and  the  flood 
of  light  that  issued  from  the  doorway,  forbade  the  at- 
tempt. I  lay  sweating  and  listening  therefore,  while  they 
snarled  and  cursed  in  the  black  mood  of  men  betrayed 
and  hopeless;  and  yet  because  of  the  chance  that  after  all 
they  might  go  out  as  they  had  come,  I  could  so  far  keep 
my  terror  wdtliin  bounds. 

Not  so,  when  I  heard  Ferguson  bid  the  man  mount 
and  fetch  the  keg.  Had  he  come  without  a  light  I  might 
still  have  controlled  myself  and  kept  quiet;  and  holding 
my  breath  though  I  were  suffocated,  and  silencing  my 
heart  though  I  died,  might  have  lain  and  let  him  pass  in 
the  darkness.  Nay,  had  I  crouched  low,  he  need  not  have 
observed  me  with  a  light;  for  I  was  a  little  beside  the 
stairhead,  and  to  enter  the  room  whence  I  had  broken 
out  he  need  not  face  me.      But  when  I  heard  him  stum- 


SHREWSBURY  239 

bling  upwards,  a  siiddeu  sense  of  the  loneliness  of  the 
house  in  that  far  corner  of  town  came  on  me;  and  with 
it,  an  overwhelming  perception  of  my  helplessness  and 
of  the  life  and  death  struggle  to  which  the  men  below 
were  committed — so  that  death  seemed  to  be  in  the  air; 
which  together  so  far  overcame  me  that  I  did  the  last 
thing  I  should  have  expected.  As  the  man  came  up  the 
stairs-,  the  light  in  his  hand,  I  rose  up  and  stood,  gasping 
at  him. 

He  paused  and  held  up  the  light.     "The  devil!  "  he 

said,    staring.      And    then,    "Who   the are   you? 

Here,  Ferguson!     Here's  your  man!  " 

The  only  answer  from  below  was  a  roar  for  liquor. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  went  on,  puzzled  as 
much  by  my  silence  as  my  presence. 

"  I  am — going,"  I  stammered;  a  desperate  hope  rising 
in  my  breast  at  sight  of  the  man's  perplexity.  He  might 
let  me  pass. 

For  aught  I  know  he  would  have  done  so;  and  it  is 
possible  that  I  might  have  gone  unseen  by  the  open  door 
below  and  gained  the  street.  But  as  he  stood  staring,  a 
second  man  came  into  the  passage,  and  looked  up  and  saw 
me.     ' '  Hallo !  "  he  said.     ' '  Who  is  that  ?  ' ' 

"  Ferguson's  man,"  Keyes  answered.  "  But,  boil  me, 
if  I  know  what  is  the  matter  with  him!  " 

The  other  called  Ferguson  and  he  came  out,  and  saw 
me;  looked,  and  with  a  scream  of  rage,  sprang  up  the 
stairs.  In  the  fury  of  his  wrath — he  threw  himself  on 
me  so  suddenly  and  with  so  much  violence  and  intention 
that  I  was  a  child  in  his  hands;  and  but  for  the  other's 
exertions,  who  not  understanding  the  matter  tore  him 
from  me,  I  must  have  been  choked  out  of  hand.  As  it 
was  I  was  black  in  the  face,  dizzy,  and  scarcely  conscious 
when  they  freed  me  from  him:  nor  in  much  better  case 
for  the  respite.  For  with  all  they  could  do  he  would  not 
release  my  shoulder,  but  dragging  me  down,  cried  breath- 


240  SHREWSBURY 

lessly  and  continuously  to  the  others  to  listen — to  listen ! 
That  he  had  the  traitor!  that  I  was  the  informer!  the  spy, 
the  blood-seller!  And  with  that,  and  as  he  partly  forced 
and  partly  tugged  me  down  the  men  thickened  round 
me,  until  dragged  into  the  lighted  room  I  found  myself 
hemmed  in  by  a  circle  of  lowering  faces  and  gloomy  eyes, 
a  circle  that,  look  where  I  might,  presented  no  breach  or 
chance  of  escape,  no  face  that  pitied  or  understood.  He 
wdio  seemed  to  be  in  highest  authority  among  them — 
afterwards  I  knew  him  for  Charnock,  the  unfrocked 
Fellow  of  Magdalen,  who  suffered  with  King  and  Keyes 
— did  indeed  make  Ferguson  let  me  go;  thrusting  him 
back  and  calling  on  him  to  tell  his  tale,  and  have  done 
with  his  blasphemy.  But  though  I  turned  that  way  in 
momentary  hope  of  aid,  I  read  no  encouragement  in  a 
face  as  stern  and  relentless  as  it  was  fanatical.  A  lamp 
hooked  high  on  one  wall,  and  so  that  it  threw  its  light 
downwards,  obscured  half  the  circle,  and  flung  a  bright 
glare  on  the  other  half;  but  in  light  or  shade,  seen  or 
unseen,  and  wdiether  drink  flushed  it,  or  passion  blanched 
it,  every  face  that  met  my  shrinking  gaze  seemed  to  be 
instinct  with  coming  doom. 

In  such  situations  fear,  which  spurs  some  minds,  para- 
lyses others.  Vainly  I  tried  to  think,  to  frame  a  defence, 
to  deny  or  avoid.  The  glare  of  the  lamp  dazzled  and  con- 
fused me.  To  Ferguson's  jDassionate  iterations,  "The 
Lord  has  delivered  him  into  our  hands!  I  tell  you,  the 
Lord  has  delivered  him  into  our  hands!  There  is  your 
informer!  I  swear  it!  I  can  prove  it!  "  I  could  find  no 
answer  except  a  feeble,  "  I  am  not!  I  am  not!  "  which  I 
continued  to  repeat — while  one  plucked  me  this  way  that 
he  might  see  me  better,  and  another  that  way — until 
Keyes  struck  me  on  the  mouth,  and  thrusting  me  back 
bade  me  be  silent. 

"And  you,  too,  Mr.  Ferguson,"  Charnock  said,  raising 
his  hand  to  still  the  tumult,  "  have  done  with  your  bias- 


SERE  WSB  UR  Y  241 

phemy.  And  talk  plainly.  Say  what  you  know,  and 
have  no  fear;  if  what  you  allege  be  proved,  we  will  do 
justice  on  him." 

"Ay,  by !  "  cried  Cassel,  the  swearer.      "A  life 

for  a  life." 

''  But,  first,  what  do  you  know  ?  "  Charnock  continued 
brusquely.  "  Speak  to  the  point.  We  must  be  gone  by 
midnight  if  we  are  to  save  ourselves." 

Then,  and  then  only,  I  think,  Ferguson,  hitherto 
blinded  by  rage,  became  sensible  of  the  fact  that  he  stood 
himself  in  a  dubious  position;  and  that  to  tell  all,  and 
particularly  to  reveal  the  visit  which  the  Secretary  had  jDaid 
to  him  at  his  lodgings,  would,  even  with  the  addition  of 
the  attempt  he  had  made  on  the  Duke's  life,  place  his 
conduct  ia  a  light  far  from  favourable.  Not  only  were 
the  men  before  him  in  no  mood  to  draw  fine  distinctions, 
or  take  all  for  granted,  but  it  was  on  the  credit  of  his 
name  and  as  his  tool  that  I  had  come  to  be  mixed  up 
in  the  matter  and  gained  my  knowledge  of  it.  It  took 
no  great  acuteness,  therefore,  to  foresee  that  their  sus- 
picions, once  roused,  they  would  punish  first  and  prove 
afterwards,  and  be  as  ready  to  turn  on  the  master  as  the 
man. 

These,  when  I  came  to  review  the  scene  afterwards, 
coolly  and  in  safety,  were,  I  had  no  doubt,  the  reflections 
that  gave  Ferguson  pause  at  the  last  moment,  and  occa- 
sioned a  kind  of  fit  into  which  he  fell  at  that — his  eves 
glaring,  his  jaws  moving  dumbly,  and  his  hands  springing 
out  in  uncouth  gestures,  like  those  of  a  man  half-para- 
lysed— a  fit  which  at  the  time  was  set  down  to  pure  rage 
and  a  temper  of  mind  always  bordering  on  the  insane.  I 
suppose  that  in  that  moment,  and  under  cover  of  that 
display,  his  crafty  brain,  apt  in  such  crises,  did  its  work, 
for  when  he  found  his  voice  he  had  his  tale  pat;  and 
where  truth  and  a  lie  most  ingeniouslv  and  sometimes 
inexplicably  mixed  would  scarcelv  serve  his  turn  or  win 
16 


243  SHREWSBURY 

him  credence,  he  imposed  on  them,  even  on  Charnock,  by 
pure  scorn  and  an  air  of  superior  knowledge. 

"  What  I  know  ?  "  said  he.  "  You  shall  have  it.  It 
is  enough  to  blast  him  ten  times.  To-day  it  happened 
that  the  Secretary  came  to  me  to  my  lodgings." 

For  a  moment  the  roar  of  surprise  which  followed  this 
statement,  silenced  him.  But  in  a  moment  he  recovered 
himself. 

"^  Ay!  "  he  said,  looking  round  him,  defiantly.  "  The 
Secretary.  What  of  it  ?  Do  you  think  that  you  know 
everything,  or  that  everything  is  told  to  you  ?  To-day,  I 
say,  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury  came  to  my  lodgings." 

"  Why  ?  "  cried  Charnock,  between  his  teeth.  '^  Why  ?  " 

"Why?"  Ferguson  answered.  "Well,  if  you  will 
have  it,  to  send  a  message  through  me  to  the  other  Duke, 
as  he  has  done  three  times  before  since  his  Grace  has 
been  in  Eugiand." 

"  To  the  Duke  of  Berwick  ?  " 

"What  other  Duke  is  there?"  the  plotter  asked, 
scornfully. 

"But  G !     If  the  Secretary  knows  that  his  Grace 

is  in  England " 

"Well?" 

"  What  will  he  not  know  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  what  he  will  not  know,  Mr.  Charnock," 
the  plotter  answered,  with  a  cunning  smile  that  brought 
his  wig  to  his  eyebrows.  "But  I  can  say  what  he  did 
not  know.  He  knew  nothing  of  your  little  business. 
For  the  rest,  when  he  left  me  I  missed  my  man  here,  and 
coming  to  enquire,  learned  that  he  had  been  seen  to  join 
the  Secretary  at  the  door  of  the  house,  sj^eak  to  him,  and 
go  away  with  him.  That  was  enough  for  me.  I  changed 
my  lodging,  slipped  away  here,  and  had  been  here  an  hour 
when  you  came.  As  soon  as  you  said  that  some  one  had 
peached  to-day  I  knew  who  it  was.  Then  Keyes  cried 
that  he  was  here,  and  there  he  was." 


SHREWSBURY  243 

"  But  how  did  he  come  to  be  here  ?  "  Charnock  asked 
sternly,  and  with  suspicion. 

''God  knows!"  said  Ferguson,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders; "I  don't." 

"  You  did  not  bring  him  ?  " 

"  Go  to,  for  a  fool!  Perhaps  he  came  to  listen,  per- 
haps he  was  sent.  He  knew  of  this  place.  For  the  rest, 
I  have  told  you  all  I  know,  and  it  is  enough  or  should  be. 
Hang  the  dog  up!  There  is  a  beam  and  a  hook.  You 
hound,  you  shall  swing  for  it!  "  he  shrieked,  passionately, 
as  he  brought  his  crimson,  blotched  face  close  to  mine, 
and  threatened  me  with  his  two  swollen  fingers.  "  You 
thought  to  outwit  me,  did  you  ?  You,  you  dog  !  You 
crossed  me  and  thought  to  sell  me,  did  you?  You  dolt! 
you. zany!  you  are  sold  yourself!  Sold  and  shall  swing! 
Swing!     Ay,  and  so  shall  all  my  enemies  perish!  " 

"An  end  to  that,"  said  Charnock,  pushing  him  away 
roughly.      "  All  the  same,  if  this  is  true,  he  shall  swing." 

"  Well,  it  is  true  enough,"  cried  a  man  thrusting  him- 
self forward,  while  with  shaking  knees  and  chattering 
teeth,  and  tongue  that  refused  to  do  its  work,  I  strove  to 
form  words,  to  speak,  to  say  or  do  something — something 
that  might  arrest  the  i-ustant  doom  that  threatened  me. 
"  It  is  true  enough,"  continued  he  coolly.  "I  was  on 
the  watch  at  the  Kensington  end  this  afternoon  and  saw 
the  Secretary  arrive  and  go  in  to  the  Dutchman.  And 
he  had  this  bully  boy  with  him.  I  know  him  again  and 
can  swear  to  him." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

I  BELIEVE  that  it  is  one  thing  to  confront  with  calm- 
ness a  death  that  is  known  to  be  inevitable,  and  quite  an- 


244  SHREWSBURY 

otlier  and  a  far  more  difficult  thing  to  assume  the  same 
brow  where  hope  and  a  chance  remain.  I  am  not  greatly 
ashamed,  therefore,  that  in  a  crisis  which  amply  justified 
all  the  horror  and  repugnance  which  mortals  feel  at  the 
prospect  of  sudden  and  violent  dissolution,  I  fell  below 
the  heroic  standard,  and  said  and  did  things,  miles  impar 
AcMlli. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  with  no  good-will  I  dwell  on  the 
matter;  in  writing,  as  in  life,  there  are  decencies  and 
indecencies;  things  to  be  told  and  others  to  be  implied. 
Let  few  words  then  suffice,  alike  for  the  moment  when 
Charnock,  holding  back  the  others,  wrung  from  me,  half- 
swooning  as  I  Avas,  the  admission  that  I  had  been  to  Ken- 
sington, and  that  the  sentry  was  not  mistaken :  and  for 
those  minutes  of  frenzied  terror  Avhicli  followed,  when 
screaming  and  struggling  in  their  grasp,  now  trying  to 
fling  myself  down,  and  now  shrieking  prayers  for  mercy, 
I  was  dragged  to  a  spot  below  the  hook,  and  held  there  by 
relentless  fingers  while  a  rope  was  being  fetched  from  the 
next  room.  I  had  no  vision,  as  I  have  read  some  have, 
of  the  things  done  in  my  life:  but  the  set,  dark  faces  that 
hemmed  me  in  under  the  light,  the  grim  looks  of  one, 
and  the  scared  pallor  of  another,  even  Ferguson's  hideous 
visage  as  he  hovered  in  the  background,  biting  his  nails 
between  terror  and  exultation — all  these,  even  enlarged 
and  multiplied,  I  saw  with  a  dreadful  clearness,  and  a 
keenness  of  vision  that  of  itself  was  torture. 

"Oh,  God!"  I  cried  at  last.  "Help!  Help!" 
For  from  man  I  could  see  no  help. 

"Ay,  man,  pray,"  said  Charnock,  inexorably.  "  Pray, 
for  you  must  die.  We  will  give  you  one  minute.  Here 
comes  the  rope.     Who  will  fasten  it?  " 

"A  fool,"  cried  a  hard  gibing  voice,  from  somewhere 
beyond  the  circle.     "  No  other." 

I  started  convulsively:  I  had  forgotten  the  girl's  pres- 
ence.    So  doubtless  had  the  conspirators,  for  at  the  sound 


SHREWSBURY  ^5 

they  turned  quickly  towards  her;  and,  the  ring  of  men 
opening  out  in  the  movement,  she  became  visible  tome. 
She  stood  confronting  all,  daring  all.  Her  lips  red,  her 
face  white  as  paper,  her  eyes  glittering  with  a  strange, 
wild  fierceness.  Long  afterwards  she  told  me  that  the 
sound  of  my  shrieks  and  cries  ringing  in  her  ears  had 
been  almost  more  than  she  could  bear:  that  as  scream 
rose  on  scream  she  had  driven  the  nails  into  her  palms 
until  her  hands  bled,  and  so  only  had  been  able  to  restrain 
herself,  knowing  well  that  if  she  would  intervene  to  the 
purpose  her  time  Avas  not  yet. 

Now  that  it  had  come,  nothing  could  exceed  the  mock- 
ery and  scorn  that  rang  in  her  tone.  "A  fool,"  she 
cried,  stridently,  "has  fetched  it,  and  a  fool  will  fasten 
it!  And,  let  who  hang,  they  will  hang.  Aiid  two  of 
you.  Ay,  you  at  the  back  there,  will  hang  them.  Why, 
you  are  fools,  you  are  all  fools,  or  you  would  take  care 
that  every  man  among  you  put  his  hand  to  the  job,  and 
was  as  deep  as  another.  Or,  if  you  like  precedence, 
and  it  is  a  question  of  fastening — for  the  man  who 
fetched,  he  is  as  good  as  dead  already — let  the  hand  that 
wove  the  noose,  tie  it!  Let  that  man  tie  it!  "  And  with 
pitiless  finger  she  pointed  to  the  old  plotter,  who,  sneak- 
ing, and  cringing  in  the  l^ackground,  had  already  his  eye 
on  tlie  door  and  his  mind  on  retreat.  '*  Let  him  tie  it!  " 
she  repeated. 

"You  slut!"  he  roared,  his  eyes  squinting,  his  face 
livid  with  fury.  "  Your  tongue  shall  be  slit.  To  your 
garret,  vixen." 

But  the  others,  as  was  not  unnatural,  saw  the  matter  in 

a  different  light.     "  By ,  the  wench  is  right!  "  cried 

Casscl;  and  Keyes  saying  the  same,  and  another  backing 
him,  there  was  a  general  chorus  of  "  Ay,  the  girl  is 
right!  The  girl  is  right!  "  At  that  the  man  who  had 
brought  the  rope,  threw  it  down.  "There's  for  me!" 
he  said,  gloomily,  and  with  an  ugly  gleam  in  his  eyes. 


346  SHREWSBURY 

"  Let  the  old  devil  take  it  up.  It  is  his  job,  not  mine, 
and  if  I  swing,  he  shall  swing  too." 

"  Fair!  "  cried  all.  "  That  is  fair!  "  And,  "  That  is 
fair,  Mr.  Ferguson,"  said  Charnock.  "Do  you  put  the 
rope  round  his  neck." 

"  I  ?  "  Ferguson  spluttered;  glaring  from  under  his  Avig. 

"Yes,  you!"  the  man  who  had  brought  the  rope 
retorted  with  violence.  "You!  And  why  not,  I'd  like 
to  know,  my  gentleman  ?  " 

"  I  am  no  hangman!  "  cried  the  plotter,  with  a  miser- 
able assumption  of  dignity. 

But  the  words  and  the  evasion  only  inflamed  the  gen- 
eral rage.  "And  are  we?  "  Cassel  roared,  with  a  volley 
of  oaths.  "  You  covenanting,  psalm-singing,  tub-thumi3- 
ing  old  quill-driver!"  he  continued.  "Do  you  think 
that  we  are  here  to  do  your  dirty  work,  and  squeeze 
throats  at  your  bidding  ?  Peste  !  For  a  gill  of  Hollands 
I  would  split  your  tongue  for  you.  That  and  your  pen 
have  done  too  much  harm  already  !  " 

"Peace!"  Charnock  said.  "  Gro  softly,  man.  And 
do  you,  Mr.  Ferguson,  take  up  the  rope  and  do  your  part. 
Otherwise  we  shall  have  strange  thoughts  of  you.  There 
have  been  things  said  before,  and  it  were  well  you  gave 
no  colour  to  them." 

I  cannot  believe  that  even  I,  writhing  as  a  few  minutes 
before  I  had  writhed  in  their  hands,  and  screaming  and 
begging  for  life,  could  have  presented  a  more  pitiable 
spectacle  than  Ferguson  exhibited,  thus  brought  to  book. 
All  the  base  and  craven  instincts  of  a  low  and  cowardly 
nature,  brought  to  the  surface  by  the  challenge  thus  flung 
in  his  face,  he  quailed  and  cowered  before  the  men;  and 
shifting  his  feet  and  breathing  hard  glanced  askance,  first 
at  one  and  then  at  another,  as  if  to  see  who  would  suj)- 
porthim,  or  who  could  most  easily  be  persuaded.  But  he 
found  scant  encouragement  anywhere;  the  men,  savage 
and  ill-disposed,  to  begin,  and  driven  to  the  wall,  to  boot. 


SHREWSBURY  247 

had  now  conceived  suspicions,  and  in  proportion  as  delay 
and  his  conduct  diverted  their  rage  from  me,  turned  it  on 
him  with  growing  ferocity. 

"Here  is  the  cock  of  the  pit!"  cried  Keyes,  who 
seemed  to  be  a  trooper  and  a  man  of  no  education,  lack- 
ing even  the  occasional  French  word  or  accent  that  be- 
trayed the  others'  sojourn  with  King  Louis.     "D 

him!  He  would  have  us  hang  the  man,  but  won't  lay  a 
finger  on  him  himself!  He  is  no  Ketch,  isn't  he  ?  Well, 
I  hang  no  man  either,  unless  I  put  a  hand  on  Am." 
And  he  pointed  full  at  the  plotter. 

A  murmur  of  assent,  stern  and  full  of  meaning,  echoed 
his  words. 

"Mr.  Ferguson,"  said  Charnock,  with  grave  polite- 
ness, "you  hear  what  this  gentleman  says?  And  mind 
you,  if  you  ask  me,  he  has  reason.  A  few  minutes  ago 
you  were  forward  with  us  to  hang  this  person.  And 
among  gentlemen  to  urge  another  to  do  what  you  will  not 
do  yourself,  lays  you  open  to  comment.  It  may  even  be 
pretended,  that  if  your  rogue  informed,  you  were  not  so 
ignorant  of  the  fact  as  you  would  have  us  believe  you." 

It  was  wonderful  to  see  how  the  men,  sore  and  desper- 
ate, caught  at  that  notion,  and  with  what  greedy  ferocity 
they  turned  on  the  knave  who,  only  a  few  moments  before, 
had  swayed  their  passions  to  his  will.  It  was  to  no  pur- 
pose that  Ferguson,  head  and  hands  shaking  as  with  a 
palsy,  strove  frantically  to  hurl  back  the  accusation.  His 
wonted  profanity  seemed  to  fail  him  on  this  occasion, 
while  tlie  violence  which  had  daunted  men  of  saner  tem- 
peraments proved  no  match  for  Cassel's  brutality,  who, 
breaking  in  on  him  before  he  had  stammered  a  score  of 
words,  called  him  liar  and  sneak,  and,  denouncing  him 
with  outstretched  finger,  was  in  the  act  to  hound  his  com- 
rades on  him,  Avheu  something  caught  the  ear  of  one  of 
them,  and  with  a  cry  of  alarm  this  man,  who  stood  near 
the  door,  raised  his  hand  for  silence. 


248  SHREWSBURY 

Rage  died  down  iu  the  others'  faces,  and  involuntarily 
they  clustered  together.  But  the  panic  was  of  short  du- 
ration; hardly  had  the  alarm  been  given  and  taken,  or 
the  lamp  which  hung  against  the  wall  been  snatched  down 
and  shaded,  before  the  sound  of  a  key  iu  the  door  reas- 
sured the  conspirators.  For  me,  who  throughout  the 
scene,  last  described,  had  leaned  half-swooning  against 
the  wall,  listening,  with  what  feelings  the  reader  may 
easily  judge,  to  the  contest  for  my  life — for  me,  who  now 
stood  reprieved,  and  for  the  moment  safe,  any  change 
might  be  expected  to  be  fraught  with  terror.  But 
whether  I  had  passed  the  bitterness  of  death,  or  sheer 
teri'or  had  exhausted  my  capacity  for  suffering,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  I  awaited  the  event  with  lack-lustre  eyes;  and 
hearing  a  cry  of,  "  It's  Mat  Smith!  "  felt  neither  fear  nor 
surprise,  nor  even  moved,  when  Smith  entered,  followed 
by  a  woman,  and  with  a  quick  glance  took  in  the  room 
and  its  occupants. 

"Grood,"  said  Cassel  with  an  oath.  "  I  thought  that 
the  soldiers  were  on  us.  But  if  tliey  had  been,  curse 
me,  but  I  would  have  sent  tliis  old  Judas  to  his  place 
before  me ! ' ' 

Smith  looked  with  a  grim  smile  from  the  speaker  to 
Ferguson;  and  raising  his  eyebrows,  "Judas,"  said  he, 
with  ironical  politeness,  as  he  laid  his  cloak  and  cane 
upon  the  table,  "is  it  possible  that  you  refer  to  my 
friend  Mr.  Ferguson?" 

"Strangle  your  friend!"  Cassel  answered  coarsely. 
"Do  you  know  that  his  man  there  has  blown  on  the 
thing  and  sold  us?  " 

Smith's  eye  had  already  found  me,  where  I  leaned 
against  the  wall,  my  hands  tied.  "  I  see,"  he  said  coolly. 
"I  knew  before  that  the  game  was  up;  and  I  have  been 
somewhere,  and  warned  someone,"  he  added,  with  a 
glance  at  Charnock.  who  nodded.  "  But  I  did  not  know 
how  they  had  the  office." 


SHREWSBURY  249 

"He  gave  it!  That  is  how  they  had  it!"  Cassel  re- 
torted. "  And  it  is  my  belief  that  like  man  like  master! 
And  that  that  poor  piece  there  would  no  more  have  dared 
to  inform  without  his  patron's  leave  than " 

He  left  the  end  of  his  sentence  to  be  understood;  but 
Charnock,  taking  uj)  the  tale  and  disregarding  Fergu- 
son's mutterings,  described  in  a  few  words  what  had  hap- 
pened. -  When  he  came  to  the  girl's  intervention  in  my 
behalf,  the  woman  who  had  entered  with  Smith,  and  who, 
though  she  seemed  to  be  known  to  the  conspirators — for 
her  appearance  caused  no  remark — had  hitherto  remained 
fidgetting  in  the  background,  moved  forward  into  the 
room;  and  apjDroaching  the  girl,  who  was  sitting  moodily 
at  a  table  by  the  fire,  touched  her  cheek  with  her  fingers, 
and  slipping  her  hand  under  her  chin,  turned  up  her  face. 
To  this  the  girl  made  no  resistance,  and  the  two  women 
remained  looking  into  one  another's  eyes  for  a  long  min- 
ute. Then  the  elder,  who  was  the  same  woman  I  had 
seen  with  Smith  at  the  great  lady's  house  in  the  outskirts, 
let  the  girl's  face  drop  again,  with  a  little  flirt  of  her 
fingers. 

"  Doris  and  Strephon,  I  see  ?  "  she  said  with  a  sneer. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

"What  the  girl  answered  I  did  not  catch,  for  as  she 
raised  her  head  again  to  reply,  my  ear  caught  the  sound  of 
rising  danger.  Ferguson  was  speaking,  his  words,  no 
longer  coherent,  a  mere  frothing  of  oaths  and  calling 
of  hideous  fates  on  his  head  if  he  had  ever  betrayed,  if 
he  had  ever  sold,  if  he  had  ever  deceived,  now  ran  in  a 
steady  current  of  wrathful  denunciation.  And  the  men 
listened ;  he  had  their  ears  again ;  he  was  no  longer  on 


250  SHREWSBURY 

his  trial.  Afterwards  I  learned  that  while  my  attention 
was  astray  with  the  women.  Smith,  by  stating  what  I 
had  stated  to  him — namely,  that  tlie  Secretary  had  used 
Ferguson  as  the  intermediary  through  whom  to  warn  Ber- 
wick— had  confirmed  the  plotter's  story,  and  at  a  stroke 
had  restored  his  position.  Whereon,  full  of  spite,  and 
desperately  certain  that  however  exposed  he  lay  on  other 
sides  I  at  any  rate  knew  enough  to  hang  him,  the  wretched 
man  had  set  himself  anew  to  compass  my  destruction. 
Deterred  neither  by  the  check  he  had  received,  nor  by 
the  gloomy  looks  of  the  conspirators,  who  responded  but 
sluggishly  to  his  appeal,  he  drove  home  again  and  again, 
and  with  wild  words  and  wilder  oaths,  the  one  point  on 
which  he  relied,  the  one  jjoint  tliat  was  so  dear  to  him 
that  he  could  not  understand  their  hesitation, 

"Waste  of  time?"  he  cried.  "  We  would  be  better 
employed  looking  to  ourselves  and  slipping  away  to  Eom- 
ney,  would  we  ?  But  you  are  fools !  You  are  babes ! 
There  is  the  evidence  that  can  swear  to  you  all !  There  is 
the  evidence  keen  to  do  it!  There  is  the  evidence  in  your 
hands!     And  you  will  let  him  escape  ?  " 

"There  is  evidence  without  him,"  said  King  sulkily. 
"  Where  is  Prendergast  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  is  honest." 

"  But  where  is  he  ?     And  where  is  Porter  ?  " 

"Where  is  Sir  John  Fen  wick  for  that  matter?"  re- 
plied the  man  who  had  answered  for  Prendergast.  "  He 
is  too  high  and  mighty  to  mix  with  us,  and  will  only  eat 
the  chestnut  when  we  have  got  it  out  of  the  fire.  For 
that  matter,  where  are  Friend  and  Parkyns?  They  are 
not  here." 

"  Pshaw!  "  Ferguson  cried,  in  a  rage  at  the  digression. 
"  Why  will  you  be  thinking  of  them  ?  Cannot  you  see 
that  they  are  tainted,  they  are  in  it  ?  They  cannot  if 
they  will !  And  they  are  gentlemen  besides,  and  not  dirty 
knaves  like  this  fellow." 


SHREWSBURY  251 

"For  the  matter  of  that,"  said  Cassel,  bluntly, 
*'  Preston  was  a  lord.     But  he  sold  Ashton," 

The  words  brought  a  kind  of  cold  breath  of  suspicion 
into  the  room,  at  the  chill  touch  of  which  each  looked 
stealthily  at  his  neighbour,  as  if  he  said,  "  Is  it  he  ?  Or 
he?  "  Ferguson  seeing  on  this  that  he  made  little  prog- 
ress, and  that  the  men,  though  tbey  looked  at  me  venge- 
fully,  were  not  to  be  kindled,  grew  furious  and  more  furi- 
ous, and  began  to  storm  and  rave.  But  Charnock  in  a 
moment  cut  him  short. 

"Mr.  Ferguson  is  so  far  right,"  said  he,  "that  if  we 
let  this  person  go  to  perfect  his  evidence  against  us,  we 
shall  be  very  foolish.  Clearly,  it  is  to  set  a  j^remium  on 
treason." 

"  Then  let  Mr.  Ferguson  deal  with  him,"  Cassel  an- 
swered, curtly.  "  He  is  his  man,  and  it  is  his  business. 
I  don't  lay  a  hand  on  him,  and  that  is  flat." 

"  Nor  I!  Nor  I!  "  cried  several,  with  eagerness.  God 
knows  if  they  thought  in  their  hearts  to  curry  favour 
with  me. 

"  You  are  all  mad!  "  Ferguson  cried,  beating  the  air. 

"And  you  are  a  coward!"  Cassel  retorted.  "I'd  as 
soon  trust  him  as  you.     If  you  are  taken  you'll  peach, 

Ferguson  !      G you  !     I   know  you  will.      You 

will  peach!      You  are   as   white-livered   a    cur  as   ever 
lived!" 

Then,  seeing  them  divided,  and  the  most  bloody- 
minded  of  them — for  such  Cassel  had  been  a  short  time 
before — taking  up  my  cause,  I  thought  that  for  certain 
the  bitterness  of  death  was  past;  and  I  took  courage, 
discerning  for  the  first  time  solid  land  beyond  the  deeps 
and  black  suffocating  fears  through  Avhich  I  had  passed. 
For  the  first  time  I  allowed  my  thoughts  to  dwell  on  the 
future,  and  myself  to  hope  and  plan.  But  the  warm  cur- 
rent of  returning  life  had  scarcely  coursed  through  my 
veins  and  set  mv  heart  beating,  before  Charnock's  cold 


252  SHREWSBURY 

voice,  taking  up  the  tale,  smote  on  my  ear,  and  in  a 
moment  dashed  my  jubilation.  There  was  that  in  his 
tone  gripped  my  heart  afresh. 

"Peace,  man,"  he  said.  "  Peace!  Is  this  a  time  to 
be  bicivering  ?  Let  us  be  clear  before  we  separate,  what  is 
to  be  done  with  this  man.  For  my  part,  I  am  not  for 
letting  him  go." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Smith,  speaking  almost  for  the  first 
time. 

The  others,  lately  so  hot  and  impassioned,  looked  at 
the  speakers  and  at  one  another  with  a  sort  of  apathy. 

Only  Ferguson  cried  violently,  "Nor  I,  by !     Nor 

I.     We  are  many,  and  what  is  one  life  ?  " 

"Quite  so,  Mr.  Ferguson,"  Charnock retorted.  "But 
will  you  take  the  life  ?  " 

The  plotter  drew  back  as  he  had  drawn  back  before. 
"  It  is  ever3'body's  business,"  he  muttered. 

"  Then  will  you  take  part  in  it?  You  are  the  first  to 
condemn.     Will  you  be  one  to  execute  ?  " 

Ferguson  moistened  his  lips  with  his  tongue,  and,  swal- 
lowing with  an  effort,  looked  shiftily  at  me  and  away 
again.  The  sweat  stood  on  his  face.  For  me,  I  watched 
him,  fascinated;  watched  him,  and  still  he  did  not  an- 
swer. 

"Just  so,"  said  Charnock,  at  last.  "You  will  not. 
And  that  being  so,  is  there  anyone  else  who  will?  If 
not,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Put  him  in  a  lugger,"  Keyes  cried,  "at  the  bridge; 
and  by  morning " 

"  lie  wall  be  taken  off  at  the  Nore,"  Cassel  answered 
scornfully.  "And  you  too  if  you  think  to  get  off  that 
way.  There  are  more  Billops  in  the  Pool  than  the  Bil- 
lop  who  gave  up  Ash  ton." 

"  Gag  him  and  leave  him  here." 

"And  have  him  found  by  the  messengers  to-morrow 
morning?"  Cassel  answered.     "As  well  and  better,  call 


SHREWSBURY      ,  253 

a  chair,  and  pay  the  chairmen,  and  bid  them  take  him 
to  the  Secretary's  office  with  our  compliments." 

"  Well,  if  not  here,  in  one  of  the  other  pens.  Fergu- 
son knows  plenty." 

The  woman  who  had  come  in  with  Smith  laughed. 
"  That  might  answer,"  she  said,  "  if  his  sweetheart  were 
not  here.     Do  you  think  she  would  leave  him  to  starve  ?  " 

There  was  a  general  stir  and  muttering  as  the  men 
turned  to  the  girl.  ''  Pooh,"  said  one,  "  it  is  Ferguson's 
girl." 

"And  your  spy's  sweetheart,"  the  woman  repeated. 

The  girl  lifted  her  head  and  showed  the  room  a  face 
pale,  weary,  and  dull-eyed.  "He  is  nothing  to  me," 
she  said. 

And  the  men  would  have  believed  her;  but  the  woman, 
with  a  swift,  cat-like  movement,  seized  her  wrist  and 
held  it.  "Nothing  to  you,  my  girl,  isn't  he?"  she 
cried.  "Then  you  have  the  fever  or  the  small-pox  on 
you!     One,  two,  three " 

Her  face  flaming,  the  girl  sprang  up  and  snatched 
away  her  hand. 

The  woman  laughed — and  how  I  hated  her!  "He  is 
nothing  to  you,  isn't  he  ?  "  she  said  in  a  mocking  tone. 
"  Yet  what  will  you  not  give  me  to  save  him,  my  chick  ? 
What  will  you  not  give  me  to  see  him  safe  out  of  this 
house?     What ?" 

"  Peace,  peace !  "  cried  Charnock.  "Time  is  every- 
thing, and  we  are  wasting  it.  Unless  we  would  be  taken, 
every  man  of  us,  we  should  be  half-way  to  Romney  Marsh 
by  morning." 

"  Will  you  leave  him  to  me  !  "  said  Smith  suddenly. 

"  Leave  him?  " 

"  Ay.  Or  better,  let  me  have  two  minutes'  talk  with 
him  here,  and  if  he  comes  to  my  way  of  thinking,  I 
will  answer  for  him." 

"Answer  for  him?"   cried   Ferguson,  with  a  sneer. 


254  .      SHREWSBURY 

"If  you  answer  for  him  no  better  than  I  did,  you  will 
give  us  small  surety." 

"Ay,  but  I  am  not  you,  Mr.  Ferguson,"  Smith  re- 
torted, in  a  tone  of  contempt,  whereat  the  older  man 
writhed  impotently. 

"  This  person — Mr.  Taylor  or  Mr.  Price — or  whatever 
his  name  is — knows  me  and  that  what  I  say  I  do." 

"Well,  do — what  you  like  with  him,"  Charnock  an- 
swered peevishly,  "■  so  that  you  stop  his  mouth." 

To  my  great  joy  the  other  men  assented  in  the  same 
tone,  being  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  burden.  It  may  seem 
strange  to  some  that  those  who  had  prepared  an  hour  be- 
fore to  take  my  life,  should  now  be  as  ready  to  let  me  go; 
but  there  are  few  men  who  are  eager  to  take  life  in  cold 
blood,  and  kill  a  man  as  they  would  a  sheep.  Moreover, 
in  favour  of  these  men — on  whose  memory  the  Assassina- 
tion Plot  has  cast  obloquy  not  altogether  deserved,  since 
few  of  them  were  assassins  in  the  strict  sense,  and  the  worst 
of  all,  Ferguson,  escaped  his  just  fate — in  their  favour  I 
say,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the  fact  which  they  designed, 
however  horrid  in  the  eyes  of  good  citizens,  and  certainly 
not  to  be  defended  by  me,  was  not  in  their  sight  so  much 
a  murder  as  an  act  of  private  warfare  carried  into  the  ene- 
my's country.  So  fully  I  am  persuaded  was  this  the  case, 
that  had  it  been  a  question  of  stubbing  the  King  in  the 
back,  or  shooting  him  from  a  window,  I  believe  not  one 
would  have  volunteered.  Let  this  stand  to  their  credit: 
to  the  credit  of  men  whom  I  saw  and  have  described  at 
their  worst,  drunken,  reckless,  ill-combined,  and  worse 
governed;  whose  illegal  design  had  it  been  accomplished, 
must  have  postponed  the  Protestant  succession  in  these 
realms;  but  who,  misguided  and  betrayed  as  they  were  by 
leaders  more  evil  than  themselves,  evinced  some  spark  of 
chivalry  in  their  lives — for  all  did  it  in  a  measure  for  a 
cause — and  in  their  sufferings  a  fortitude  that  would 
have  become  better  men  and  a  nobler  effort. 


SHREWSBURY 


255 


So  much  of  them.  One  released  my  hands,  and  an- 
other at  Smith's  request  found  him  a  light;  and  my  new 
protector  bidding  me  follow  him,  and  leading  the  way 
upstairs  to  the  bare  room  at  the  hack  whence  I  had 
broken  out,  those  we  left  were  deep  in   muttered  plans 


:0ii& 


^< 


THE  PLACE   WAS   NOTHING   MORE   THAN   A    CONCEALED   CUPBOARD 

and  whisperings  of  the  Marsh,  and  Hunt's  house,  and 
Harrison's  Inn  at  Dimchurch,  before  we  were  out  of 
hearing. 

Smith's  first  act,  Avhen  we  reached  the  room  above,  was 
to  close  the  door  upon  us.     This  done,  he  set  his  candle 


256  SHREWSBURY 

on  the  floor  —  whence  its  flame  threw  dark  wavering 
outlines  of  our  figures  on  the  ceiling — and  moved  to  the 
hearth.  Here,  while  I  stared,  wondering  at  his  silence, 
he  searched  for  some  spring  or  handle,  and  finding  it, 
caused  a  large  piece  of  the  wainscot  to  fall  out  and  reveal 
a  cavity  about  three  feet  deep  and  six  long.  He  beckoned 
me  to  bring  the  candle  and  look  in,  and  supi^osing  it  to 
be  a  secret  way  out,  I  did  so.  However,  outlet  there  was 
none.  The  place  was  nothing  more  than  a  concealed 
cupboard. 

"Well?"  he  said,  when  he  had  moved  the  candle  to 
and  fro  that  I  might  see  the  better — his  face  the  while 
wearing  a  smile  that  caught  and  held  my  gaze.  "  Well  ? 
what  do  you  think  of  it,  Mr.  Taylor?  " 

I  did  not  understand  him,  and  I  said  so,  trembling. 

"  It  is  a  tolerable  hiding-place  ?  "  said  he. 

I  nodded;  to  please  him  I  would  have  said  it  was  a 
palace. 

"  And  not  a  bad  prison  ?  " 

I  nodded  again;  staring  at  him,  fascinated.  I  began 
to  understand. 

"And  a  grave?  " 

I  shuddered.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  muttered. 

"Lay  a  man  in  there,  bound  hand  and  foot,  and 
gagged;  what  would  you  find  in  a  year's  time,  Mr,  Price? 
Not  much." 

I  stared  at  him. 

"If  they  knew  of  that  downstairs,"  he  continued, 
stopping  to  snuff  the  candle  with  his  fingers,  then  look- 
ing askance  at  me,  "would  they  use  it,  I  wonder? 
Would  they  use  it  ?     What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Price  ?  " 

Again  I  made  no  answer. 

"  Shall  I  tell  them  ?  "  said  he  easily. 

"  What — what  do  you  want  ?  "  I  whispered  hoarsely. 

"That  is  better,"  said  he,  nodding.  "Well,  to  be 
candid,  almost  nothing.     Two  pledges.     First,  that  you 


SHREWSBURY  ■        257 

will  give   no   evidence   against  anyone  here.      That  of 
course." 

I  muttered  assent.     I  was  ready  to  promise  anything. 

"  And  secondly,  that  you  will,  when  I  call  upon  you, 
do  me  a  little  favour,  Mr.  Price.  It  is  a  small  matter,  a 
trifle  I  asked  you  at  my  lady's  house  three  days  back. 
Promise  to  do  that  for  me,  as  and  when  I  demand  per- 
formance, and  in  ten  miuutes  from  this  time  you  shall 
leave  the  house,  safe,  free,  and  unhurt." 

"  I  promise,"  I  said  eagerly.     "  I  promise  honestly!  " 

But  even  while  I  spoke — this  seemed  to  be  the  stran- 
gest of  all  the  things  that  had  happened  to  me  that  night, 
that  this  man  should  think  it  worth  while  to  pledge  me 
under  such  circumstances,  or  value  at  a  groat  a  promise 
so  given.  For  the  pledge  was  a  jiledge  to  do  ill,  and  as 
soon  as  he  and  the  other  conspirators  were  laid  by  the 
heels  or  had  fled  the  country,  what  sanction  remained  to 
bind  me  ?  I  saw  that  as  I  spoke,  and  promised — and 
promised.  And  would  have  promised  fifty  times — Avith 
the  reservation  that  I  did  so  under  force  majeure.  Who 
would  not  have  done  the  same,  being  in  my  place  ? 

But  I  suppose  I  answered  too  quickly  to  please  him, 
and  so  he  read  my  thoughts,  or  he  had  it  in  his  mind  from 
the  first  to  read  me  a  lesson,  for  the  words  were  scarcely 
out  of  my  mouth  before  he  slid  his  hand  into  his  breast 
with  the  ugliest  smile  I  ever  saw  on  a  man's  face;  and  he 
signed  to  me  to  get  into  the  cupboard.  "Get  in,"  he 
said,  between  his  closed  teeth;  and  then  when,  terrified 
by  the  change  in  him  and  the  order,  I  began  to  back 
from  it,  "Get  in!"  ho  said,  in  a  voice  that  set  me 
shaking;  "  or  take  the  consequences.  Do  you  hear  me? 
I  am  no  Ferguson  to  threaten  and  no  more." 

I  dared  resist  no  longer,  and  I  crawled  in,  trembling 
and  praying  him  not  to  shut  me  in — not  to  shut  me  in. 

"  Lie  down!  "  he  said,  gloating  on  me  with  cruel  eyes, 
and  his  hand  still  in  his  breast. 
17 


258  SHREWSBURY 

I  lay  down,  praying  for  mercy. 

"On  your  back!  On  your  back!"  he  continued. 
"And  your  hands  by  your  sides.  So!  That  is  better. 
N"ow  listen  to  me,  Mr.  Price,  and  think  on  what  I  say. 
When  you  want  to  be  laid  out  for  good  as  you  are  laid 
out  now,  when  you  are  ready  for  your  coffin  and  shroud 
— and  the  worms — then  break  your  promise  to  me,  for 
coffin  and  shroud  and  worms  will  be  ready.  Think  of  that 
— think  of  that  and  of  me  when  the  temptation  comes. 
And  hark  you,  you  fancy,"  he  went  on,  fixing  his  eyes  on 
mine,  "  and  you  count  on  it,  that  I  shall  be  taken  with 
the  others,  or  escaping  shall  be  Avhere  you  need  not  fear 
me.  Don't  deceive  yourself.  If  a  week  hence  I  am  in 
prison,  take  that  for  a  sign,  and  please  yourself.  But  if  I 
am  free,  obey,  obey — or  God  help  you!  " 

I  know  not  how  to  describe  with  any  approach  to  fi- 
delity the  peculiar  efEect  which  words  apparently  so  simple 
had  on  me,  or  tbe  terror,  out  of  all  proportion  to  the 
means  chosen — for  he  spoke  without  oath,  violence,  or 
passion — into  which  they  threw  me,  and  which  was  very 
far  from  passing  with  the  sound.  I  had  feared  Ferguson, 
but  I  feared  this  man  more,  a  hundred  times  more!  And 
yet  I  can  give  no  reason,  adduce  no  explanation,  save  that 
he  spoke  quietly,  and  so  seemed  to  mean  all  and  some- 
thing beyond  Avhat  he  said.  The  plans  for  deceiving  him 
and  breaking  my  word  which  I  had  entertained  a  moment 
before  melted  into  thinnest  air  while  I  lay  and  sweated  in 
my  narrow  berth,  not  daring  to  move  eye  or  limb  until 
he  gave  me  leave. 

And  he,  as  if  he  knew  how  fear  of  him  grew  on  me 
under  his  gaze — or  in  sheer  cruelty,  I  know  not  which 
— kept  me  there,  and  sat  smiling  and  smiling  at  mo  (as 
the  devil  may  smile  at  some  dead  man  passed  beyond  re- 
demption)— kept  me  there  God  knows  how  long.  But  so 
long,  and  to  such  pur^iose,  that  when  at  length  he  bade 
me  rise,  and  looking  closely  into  my  face,  nodded,  and 


SHREWSBURY  259 

told  me  I  miglit  go — nay,  later  than  that,  when  he  had 
led  me  downstairs  aad  opened  the  door  for  me,  and  sup- 
ported me  through  it — for  in  tlie  cold  air  I  staggered  like 
a  drunken  man — even  then,  I  say,  so  heavy  was  the  spell 
of  fear  laid  on  me,  and  such  his  power,  I  dared  not  move 
or  stir  until  he  had  twice — smiling  the  second  time — 
bidden  me  go.  ''  Go,  man,"  said  he,  "  you  are  free.  But 
remember  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Few  men  are  condemned  to  sucli  an  ordeal  as  that 
through  which  I  had  passed;  and  though  some  who  read 
this,  and  are  as  remote  from  death  as  the  wife,  that  may 
be  any  day,  and  must  be  one  day,  is  from  the  young  bache- 
lor— though  some,  I  say,  and  in  particular  those  who 
never  saw  blade  drawn  in  anger  in  their  lives,  but  have 
done  all  their  fighting  in  the  cock-pit,  may  think  that  I 
carried  it  poorly  in  the  circumstances,  and  with  none  of 
the  front  and  bravado  suitable  to  the  occasion,  I  would 
have  them  remember  the  old  saying,  Ne  sutor  supra  cre- 
pidam,  and  ask  of  a  scholar  only  a  scholar's  work.  I 
would  have  them  remember  that  in  the  shadow  of  the 
scaffold,  even  a  man  so  gallant  by  repute  as  the  Lord  Pres- 
ton of  that  day,  stooped  to  be  an  evidence;  and  that  in 
the  same  situation  the  family  pride  of  Richard  Hampden 
availed  as  little  as  the  reckless  courage  of  Monmouth,  or 
the  effrontery  of  Sir  John  Fenwick,  to  raise  its  owner 
above  the  common  level. 

SimpUciler,  it  is  one  thing  to  vapour  at  the  Cocoa-tree 
among  wits  and  beaux,  and  another  to  take  the  hazard 
when  the  time  comes,  as  no  less  a  person  than  my  Lord 
Bolinffbroke  discovered,  and  that  no  farther  back  than 
'14.      I  would  have  large  talkers  to  remember  this.     For 


260  SHREWSBURY 

myself  I  am  content  that  I  came  through  the  trial  with 
my  life;  and  yet,  not  with  so  much  of  that  either,  that 
anything  surer  than  instinct  guided  my  ste^DS  when  all 
was  over  to  the  Duke's  home  in  St.  James's  Square,  where 
arriving,  speechless  and  helpless,  it  was  wonderful  I  was 
not  put  to  the  door  without  more.  Fortunately,  my 
lord,  marvelling  at  my  failure  to  return  before,  and 
mindful,  even  in  the  turmoil  of  that  evening,  of  the 
service  I  had  done  him  in  the  day,  had  given  orders  in  my 
behalf;  and  on  my  arrival  I  was  recognised,  half  dead  as 
I  was,  and  taken  to  the  steward's  room,  and  being  let 
blood  by  a  surgeon  who  was  hastily  called  in,  was  put  to 
bed,  all  who  saw  me  supposing  that  I  was  suffering  from 
vertigo,  or  some  injury,  though  no  marks  of  blows  on  the 
head  could  be  discovered. 

That  was  a  night  long  remembered  in  London.  Mes- 
sengers with  lights,  attended  by  files  of  soldiers,  were  every 
hour  passing  through  the  streets,  searching  houses  and 
arresting  the  suspected.  From  mouth  to  mouth  rumours 
of  the  consjjiracy  flew  abroad;  at  nine  o'clock  it  was  stated, 
and  generally  believed,  that  the  King  was  wounded ;  at  ten 
that  he  had  been  seized ;  later  that  he  was  dead.  Early 
in  the  evening  the  draw-bridge  at  the  Tower  was  drawn, 
and  the  sentries  were  doubled ;  the  City  gates  were  closed 
and  guarded;  a  whole  battalion  stood  all  night  under 
arms  at  Kensington;  the  Council  was  in  perpetual  sit- 
ting; many  houses  were  lighted  from  eve  to  dawn;  nor 
since  the  great  panic  of  Beachy  Head  in  '90  had  there 
been  an  alarm  so  dee|)  or  widesj)read. 

If  this  was  so  in  the  city  generally,  at  the  Secretary's 
residence,  whither  many  of  the  prisoners  were  brought 
for  examination  as  soon  as  they  were  taken,  the  excite- 
ment was  at  its  height.  The  Square  outside,  then  unen- 
closed, was  occupied  all  night  by  successive  groups  of 
sight-seers,  or  of  persons  more  nearly  interested  in  the 
event.     One  consequence  of  this  was  that,  with  all  this 


SHREWSBURY  261 

astir  without,  my  case  attracted  the  less  notice  within; 
and,  unheeded  and  almost  forgotten — which,  perhaps,  was 
the  better  for  me — I  was  left  in  peace  to  sleep  ofE  the 
shock  and  fright  I  had  exj)erienced,  of  which  the  severity 
may  be  gauged  by  the  fact  that  the  afternoon  of  the  next 
day  was  well  advanced  before  I  awoke,  and  finding  my- 
self in  bed  in  a  strange  room,  with  cold  broth  and  a  little 
Avine .  standing  on  a  stool  at  my  elbow,  sat  up,  and 
looked  round  me  in  amazement.  The  steep  slope  of  the 
ceiling  towards  the  window,  and  the  heavy  flattened  eaves 
which  projected  over  the  latter,  soon  api^rised  me  that 
I  lay  under  the  leads  of  a  great  house;  bub  this  was  the 
extent  of  my  knowledge.  However,  my  stomach  pres- 
ently called  for  food,  and  I  took  it;  and  my  head  ceasing 
to  swim,  I  began  to  recall  what  had  happeaed  to  me;  and 
rising,  and  going  to  the  window,  I  recognised  the  great 
and  fashionable  Square  on  which  my  window  looked. 
At  that  and  the  thoughts  of  what  I  had  gone  through, 
and  the  danger  I  had  escaped,  I  fell  to  quaking  again, 
and  for  a  moment  the  dizziness  returned.  But  presently, 
the  cheerful  aspect  of  the  room  much  aiding  me,  I  recov- 
ered myself,  and  dressing,  and  finishing  the  food,  I  jire- 
pared  to  descend. 

No  need  to  say  that  I  wondered  much  at  all  I  saw,  and 
particularly  at  the  handsome  and  stately  proportions  of 
the  staircase,  which  I  descended  without  seeing  any  per- 
son until  I  reached  the  landing  on  the  first  floor.  Here, 
looking  timidly  over  the  balustrade,  I  discovered  that  the 
buzz  and  hum  of  voices  which  I  had  heard  as  soon  as  I 
opened  my  door,  came  from  the  hall  below,  which  ap- 
peared to  be  paved  with  heads.  First  and  nearest  to 
where  I  stood  were  clustered  on  the  lower  steps  of  the 
staircase  a  number  of  persons  whom  I  took  to  be  servants, 
and  who,  standing  as  if  in  the  boxes  of  a  theatre,  were 
taken  up  with  staring  at  what  went  on  on  the  floor  below 
them,  and  particularly  at  a  row  of  eight  or  nine  men,  who. 


262  SHREWSBURY 

seated  on  chairs  along  one  side  of  the  hall,  seemed  to  be 
in  the  charge  of  a  messenger  and  some  tipstaves,  and  to 
be  prisoners  awaiting  examination.  Between  these  last 
and  the  stairs  occupying  the  floor  of  the  hall,  and  both 
moving  and  standing  still,  were  a  crowd  of  persons  of 
condition,  the  greater  part,  to  all  appearance,  clients  of 
the  Duke,  or  officers  and  persons  who,  having  the  entree, 
had  stepped  iu  out  of  curiosity  to  see  the  sight. 

However,  I  had  no  eyes  for  these,  for  with  a  beating 
heart  I  recognised  among  the  dejected  prisoners  seated 
along  the  wall,  four  whom  I  knew.  King,  Keyes,  Cassel, 
and  Ferguson  himself,  and  I  had  anything  but  a  mind  to 
stay  to  be  recognised  in  my  turn.  I  was  in  the  act  of 
withdrawing,  therefore,  as  quietly  as  I  could,  when  I  saw 
with  a  kind  of  shock  that  the  j^risoner  at  the  end  of  the 
row,  the  one  nearest  to  me  and  farthest  from  the  door, 
was  a  girl.  It  scarcely  needed  a  second  glance  to  tell  me 
that  the  girl  was  Mary.  The  light  at  that  inner  extrem- 
ity of  the  hall  was  waning,  and  her  face,  always  j)ale  and 
now  in  shadow,  wore  an  aspect  of  grey  and  weary  depres- 
sion that,  natural  as  it  was  under  the  circumstances,  went 
to  my  heart,  and  impressed  me  deeply  in  proportion  as 
I  had  always  found  her  hard  and  self-reliant.  But  moved 
as  I  was,  I  dared  not  linger,  since  to  linger  might  be  to  be 
observed.  With  a  light  foot,  therefore,  I  carried  out  my 
first  intention,  and  drawing  back  undiscovered,  sneaked 
up  the  staircase  to  my  room. 

My  clue  in  the  circumstances  was  clear.  Plainly  it  was 
to  lie  close  and  keep  quiet  and  shun  observation  until  the 
crisis  was  passed;  then  by  every  means  in  my  power — 
saving  always  the  becoming  an  evidence  in  court,  wdiich 
was  too  dangerous — to  deserve  the  Duke's  favour;  and  as 
to  the  pledge  I  had  given  to  Smith,  to  be  guided  by  the 
future. 

Such  a  line  of  conduct  was  immensel}'  favoured  by  the 
illness  to  which  I  had  so  fortunately  succumbed.     Once 


SHREWSBURY  263 

back  in  my  bed,  I  had  only  to  lie  there,  and  affect  weak- 
ness; and  in  a  day  or  two  I  might  hope  that  things  would 
be  so  far  advanced  that  my  share  in  them  and  knowledge 
of  them  would  go  for  little,  and  I,  on  the  ground  of  the 
personal  service  I  had  done  his  Grace,  might  keep  his 
favour — yet  run  no  risk. 

In  fact  nothing  could  seem  more  simple  than  such  a 
line  of. conduct;  on  which,  the  western  daylight  that  still 
lingered  in  the  room,  giving  my  retreat  a  most  cheerful 
aspect,  I  felt  that  I  had  every  reason  to  hug  myself. 
After  the  miseries  and  dangers  of  the  past  week  I  was 
indeed  well  off.  Here,  in  the  remote  top  floor  of  my 
lord's  great  house  in  the  Square,  I  was  as  safe  as  I  could 
be  anywhere  in  the  world,  and  I  knew  it. 

But  so  contrary  is  human  nature,  and  so  little  subject 
to  the  dictations  of  the  soundest  sense,  that  I  had  not  lain 
in  my  bed  five  minutes,  congratulating  myself  on  my 
safety,  before  the  girl,  and  the  wretchedness  I  had  read 
in  her  face,  began  to  trouble  me.  It  was  not  to  be  denied 
that  she  had  gone  some  way  towards  saving  my  life — if 
she  had  not  actually  saved  it;  and  I  had  a  kind  of  feel- 
ing for  her  on  that  account.  True,  things  were  greatly 
altered  since  we  had  agreed  to  go  to  Romford  together,  et 
nuptiaf^  facere  ;  I  had  got  no  patron  then,  nor  such  pros- 
pects as  I  now  had,  these  troubles  once  overpast.  But 
for  all  that,  it  troubled  me  to  think  of  her  as  I  had  seen 
her,  pale  and  downcast;  and  by-and-by  I  found  myself 
again  at  the  door  of  my  room  with  my  hand  on  the  latch. 
Thence  I  went  back,  shivering  and  ashamed,  and  calling 
myself  and  doubtless  rightly  a  fool;  and  tried,  by  watch- 
ing the  crowd  in  the  Square — but  timidly,  since  even  at 
that  height  I  fancied  I  might  be  recognised — to  divert  my 
thoughts.  With  so  little  success  in  the  end,  however, 
that  presently  I  was  stealing  down  the  stairs  again. 

I  knew  that  it  was  impossible  I  could  pass  down  the 
main  staircase  and  through  the  servants  unobserved,  but 


264  SHREWSBURY 

I  took  it  that  in  sucli  a  house  there  must  be  a  backstairs; 
and  coming  to  the  first  floor  I  turned  craftily  down  the 
main  corridor  leading  into  the  heart  of  the  house,  and 
pretty  quickly  found  that  staircase — which  was  as  good 
as  dark — and  crept  down  it  still  meeting  no  one;  a 
thing  that  surprised  me  until  I  stood  in  the  long  passage 
on  the  ground  floor  corresponding  with  the  corridor  above, 
and  found  that  the  door,  which  from  its  position  should 
cut  it  off  from  the  front  hall,  was  fastened.  Tantalised 
by  the  murmur  of  voices  in  the  hall,  and  my  proximity, 
I  tried  the  lock  twice;  but  the  second  effort  only  confirm- 
ing the  result  of  the  first,  I  was  letting  down  the  latch 
as  softly  as  I  could,  hoping  that  I  should  not  be  detected, 
when  the  door  was  sharply  flung  open  in  my  face,  all  the 
noise  and  heat  of  the  hall  burst  on  me,  and  in  the  open- 
ing appeared  a  stout  angry  man,  who  glared  at  me  as  if 
he  would  eat  me. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  cried,  "  when  twice  I 

have  told  you "    There  he  stopped,  seeing  who  it  was, 

and  "  Hallo!  "  he  continued  in  a  different  and  more  civil 
tone,  "  it  is  you,  is  it  ?     Are  you  better  ?  " 

Afterwards  I  learned  that  he  was  Mr.  Martin,  my 
lord's  house-steward,  but  at  the  time  I  knew  him  only 
for  someone  in  authority;  and  I  muttered  an  excuse. 
"Well,  come  through,  now  you  are  here,"  he  continued 
sharply.  "  But  the  orders  are  strict  that  this  door  be 
kept  locked  while  this  business  is  going.  You  can  see  as 
well,  or  better,  from  the  stairs.  There,  those  are  the 
men.  And  a  rare  set  of  Frenchified  devils  they  look ! 
Charnock  is  in  with  my  lord  now%  and  I  hope  he  may  not 
blow  him  up  with  gunpowder  or  some  fiendish  trick." 

He  had  scarcely  told  me  when,  a  stir  in  the  body  of  the 
hall  announcing  a  new  arrival,  a  cry  was  raised  of  "  Room 
for  my  Lord  Marlborough  and  my  Lord  Godolphin!  "  and 
the  press  falling  to  either  side  out  of  respect,  I  had  a 
glimpse  of  two  gentlemen  in  the  act  of  entering;  one. 


SHREWSBURY  265 

a  stout  and  very  noble-looking  man  of  florid  complexion, 
the  other  stout  also  and  personable,  but  a  trifle  smug 
and  solemn.  The  steward  had  no  sooner  heard  their 
names  announced,  than  in  a  great  fluster  he  bade  me  keep 
the  door  a  minute;  and  pushing  himself  into  the  throng, 
he  went  with  immense  importance  to  receive  them. 

So  by  a  strange  piece  of  luck  at  the  moment  that  the 
check  of  his  presence  was  withdrawn,  I  found  myself 
standing  within  three  feet  of  the  girl,  whose  seat  was 
close  to  the  door;  moreover,  the  movement,  by  thrusting 
those  who  had  before  occupied  the  floor  back  upon  the 
line  of  prisoners,  had  walled  us  in,  as  it  were,  from  ob- 
servation. Under  these  circumstances  our  eyes  met,  and 
I  looked  for  a  flush  of  joy  and  surprise,  a  cry  of  recogni- 
tion at  least;  but  though  Mary  started,  and  for  an  instant 
stared  at  me  wide-eyed,  her  gaze  fell  the  next  moment, 
and  muttering  something  inaudible,  she  let  her  chin  sink 
back  on  her  breast. 

I  did  not  remember  that  she,  suj^posing  I  had  informed, 
and  ignorant  of  the  scene  Avhich  had  bound  me  to  the 
Duke  of  Shrewsbury,  would  see  nothing  surprising  in  my 
presence  in  his  house,  and  more  deeply  wounded  than  I 
can  now  believe  possible  by  her  demeanour,  I  bent  over 
her. 

"  Don't  you  know  me?  "  I  whispered.     "  Mary!  " 

She  shivered,  but  retained  the  same  attitude,  her  eyes 
on  the  floor. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you?"  I  persisted;  but  this 
time  I  spoke  more  coldly;  her  silence  began  to  annoy 
me. 

She  looked  up  then  with  a  wan  smile;  and,  with  lips 
so  dry  that  they  scarcely  jDcrformed  their  office,  spoke. 
"  You  can  let  me  escape,"  she  said. 

"  That  is  impossible,"  I  answered  promptly — to  put  an 
end  to  such  notions.  And  then  to  comfort  her,  ''  Be- 
sides, what  can  they  do  to  you!"  I  said  confidently. 


266  SHREWSBURY 

"Nothing!  You  are  not  a  man,  and  they  do  not  burn 
women  for  treason  now,  unless  it  is  for  coining.  Cheer 
up!     They " 

"  They  will  send  me  to  the  Compter — and  Avhip  me," 
she  muttered,  shuddering  so  suddenly  and  violently  that 
the  chair  creaked  under  her.  And  then,  "  If  you  can  get 
me  away,"  she  continued,  moistening  her  lips  and  speak- 
ing with  her  eyes  averted,  "  AYell!  But  if  not  you  had 
better  leave  me.  You  do  me  no  good,"  she  added,  after 
a  slight  pause,  and  with  a  sob  of  impatience  in  her 
voice. 

I  knew  that  it  was  not  unlikely  that  the  House  of  Cor- 
rection would  be  her  fate ;  and  that  such  a  fate,  even  to  a 
decent  woman — and  she  was  a  girl ! — might  be  less  tolerable 
than  death.  And  I  felt  something  of  the  horror  and  lurk- 
ing apprehension  that  parched  her  mouth  and  strained 
her  eyes.  The  hall  was  growing  dark  round  us,  and  the 
throng  of  persons  of  all  sorts  that  filled  it,  poisoning  the 
air  with  their  breathing  and  the  odour  of  their  clothes, 
I  experienced  an  astonishing  loathing  of  the  confinement 
and  the  place.  I  saw  this  the  beginning  of  the  dreary 
road  which  she  had  to  travel;  and  my  heart  revolting  with 
the  pity  of  it,  and  the  future  of  it,  I  fell  into  a  passion, 
and  did  a  thing  I  very  seldom  did.     I  swore. 

And  then — heaven  knows  how  I  went  on  to  a  thing  so 
unwise  and  reckless,  and  in  every  way  so  unlike  me! 
Certainly  it  was  not  the  mere  opportunity  tempted  me — 
though  a  chance  more  favourable,  the  general  attention 
being  completely  engrossed  by  the  two  noblemen,  could 
not  have  been  conceived — yet  it  was  certainly  not  that, 
I  say,  for  I  did  it  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  in  sheer 
blind  terror,  not  looking  to  see  whether  I  were  watched 
or  not.  Nor  did  it  arise  from  any  farther  suggestion  on 
the  girl's  part.  In  fact,  all  I  remember  of  it  is  that,  in 
a  paroxysm  of  pity,  feeling  rather  than  seeing  that  the 
people  round  us  completely  hid  us,  I  touched  the  girl's 


SHREWSBURY  367 

shoulder,  and  that  she  looked  uji  with  a  wild  look  in 
her  eyes — and  that  determined  me.  So  that  without 
thinking  I  unlocked  the  door  in  a  trembling,  fumbling 
sort  of  manner,  and  passed  her  through  it,  and  followed 
her,  no  one  except  Cassel,  the  prisoner  who  sat  next  her, 
being  the  wiser.  Had  I  been  prudent,  or  acted  under 
anytliing  but  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  I  should  have 
let  her  go  through,  and  trusting  to  her  woman's  wits  to 
get  her  clear  of  the  house,  have  remained  on  guard  myself 
as  if  nothing  had  happened;  and  certainly  this  would  have 
been  the  safer  way,  since  I  could  have  sworn,  when  I  was 
challenged,  that  no  one  had  passed  through  the  door. 
But  I  had  not  the  nerve  to  think  of  this  or  remain,  and 
I  went  with  her. 

The  thing  once  done,  my  first  thought,  and  the  natu- 
ral, if  foolish,  impulse  on  which  I  acted  was  to  take 
her  to  my  room,  hers  to  follow  where  I  led.  The  passage 
beyond  the  door  was  dark,  but  taking  no  thought  of  slip 
or  stumble,  in  a  moment  I  had  her  up  the  small  staircase 
which  led  to  tlie  first  floor,  and  through  the  door  at  the 
head  of  the  flight  into  the  long  corridor,  which,  s^m- 
cious,  lofty,  and  comparatively  light — in  every  way  the 
strangest  opposite  to  the  crowded  hall  below — ran  from 
the  well  of  the  great  staircase  into  the  depths  of  the 
house.  By  involving  her  in  this  upper  part  of  the 
house,  whence  escape  was  impossible,  and  where  pro- 
longed search  must  inevitably  discover  her,  I  was  really 
doing  a  most  foolish  thing.  But  in  the  event  it  mat- 
tered nothing,  for  as  we  reached  the  corridor,  and  paused 
to  cast  a  wary  glance  down  its  length  this  Avay  and  that 
— I,  for  my  part,  shaking  like  an  aspen,  and  I  doubt  not 
as  white  as  a  sheet — a  single  footstep  rang  on  the  marble 
floor  that  edged  the  matting  of  the  passage,  and  the  next 
moment  the  Duke  himself,  issuing  from  a  doorway  no 
more  than  five  paces  away,  came  plump  upon  us. 

The  surprise  was  so  complete  that  we  had  no  time  to 


268  SHREWSBURY 

move,  and  we  stood  as  if  turned  to  stone.  Yet  even 
then,  if  I  had  retained  perfect  jn'esence  of  mind,  and 
bethought  me  that  he  miglit  not  know  tlie  girl,  and  would 
probably  deem  her  one  of  his  household — a  still-room 
maid  or  a  seamstress — all  might  have  been  well.  For 
though  he  did,  in  fact,  know  the  girl,  having  questioned 
her  not  half  an  hour  before,  it  was  on  me  that  his  eye 
alighted;  and  his  first  words  were  proof  that  he  sus- 
pected nothing. 

"Are  you  better?  "  he  said,  pausing  with  the  kindness 
and  consideration  that  so  well  became  him — nay,  that 
became  no  other  man  so  well.  "I  am  glad  to  see  tliat 
you  are  about.  We  shall  want  you  presently.  What 
was  it?" 

And  then,  if  I  had  answered  him  at  once,  I  have  no 
doubt  that  he  would  have  passed  on;  but  my  teeth  chat- 
tered so  pitiably  that  I  could  only  gape  at  him;  and  on 
that,  seeing  in  a  moment  that  something  was  wrong,  he 
looked  at  my  companion,  and  recognised  her.  I  saw  his 
eyes  oj^en  Avide  with  astonishment,  and  his  mouth  grew 
stern.  Then,  "  But  what — what,  sir,  is  this  ?  "  he  cried. 
"  And  what  do  you " 

He  said  no  more,  for  as  he  reached  that  word  the  door 
beside  me  opened  gently,  and  a  man  slid  round  it,  looked, 
saw  the  Duke,  and  stood,  his  mouth  agape,  a  stifled  oath 
on  his  lips.     It  was  Cassel,  his  hands  shackled. 

At  this  fresh  appearance  the  Duke's  astonishment  may 
be  imagined,  and  could  scarcely  be  exceeded.  He  stared 
at  the  door  as  if  he  questioned  who  still  remained  be- 
hind it,  or  who  might  be  the  next  to  issue  from  it.  But 
then,  seeing,  I  suppose,  something  whimsical  and  bizarre 
in  the  situation — which  there  certainly  was,  though  at 
the  time  I  was  far  from  discerning  it — and  being  a  man 
who,  in  all  circumstances,  retained  a  natural  dignity,  he 
smiled;  and  recovering  himself  before  any  one  of  us, 
took  a  tone  between   the  grave    and  ironical.       "  Mr. 


SHREWSBURY  269 

Cassel  ?  "  he  said.     "Unless  my  eyes  deceive  me?     The 
gentleman  I  saw  a  few  minutes  ago  ?  " 

"The  same,"  the  conspirator  answered  jauntily;  but 
his  anxious  eyes  roving  beside  and  behind  the  Dake  belied 
his  tone. 

"Then,  perhaj)s,"  my  lord  answered,  taking  out  his 
snuff-box,  and  tapping  it  with  a  good-humoured  air, 
"you  -will  see,  sir,  that  your  presence  here  needs  some 
explanation  ?     May  I  ask  how  you  came  here  ?  " 

"The  devil  I  know  or  care,  your  Grace!"  Cassel  an- 
swered. "  Except  that  I  came  into  your  house  with  no 
good-will,  and  if  I  could  have  found  the  door  should  not 
have  outstayed  my  welcome." 

"I  believe  it,"  said  my  lord  drily,  "if  I  believe 
nothing  else.  But  you  have  lost  the  throw.  And  that 
being  so,  may  I  beg  that  you  will  descend  again  ?  I  am 
loth  to  use  force  in  my  own  house,  Mr.  Cassel,  and  to 
call  the  servants  would  prejudice  your  case.  If  you  are 
wise,  therefore,  I  think  that  you  will  see  the  wisdom  of 
retiring  quietly." 

"Have  no  fear,  I  will  go,"  the  man  answered  with 
sufficient  coolness.  "I  should  not  have  come  up,  but 
that  I  saw  that  Square-toes  there  smuggle  out  the 
girl,  and  as  no  one  was  looking  it  seemed  natural  to 
follow." 

"  Oh!  "  said  the  Duke,  flashing  a  glance  at  me  that 
loosened  my  knee-joints.  "  He  smuggled  her  out,  did 
he?" 

"He  could  not  do  much  less,"  the  conspirator  an- 
swered.    "  She  saved  his  life  yesterday." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Ay,  when  Ferguson  would  have  hung  him  like  a 
dog!  And  not  far  wrong  either!  But  mum!  I  am 
talking.  And  save  him  or  no,  I  did  not  think  the 
creature  had  the  spunk  to  do  the  thing.  No,  I  did 
not." 


270  SHREWSBURY 

"  Ah!  "  said  my  lord,  looking  at  him  attentively. 

"No,  and  as  for  the  wench,  your  Grace "  and  with 

the  word  Cassel  dropped  his  voice,  "she  is  no  more  than 
a  child.  You  have  enough.  It  is  all  over.  Sac?'e  noin 
de  Dieu,  let  her  go,  my  lord.     Let  the  girl  go." 

The  Duke  raised  his  eyebrows.  "I  see  no  girl," 
said  he,  slowly.  "  Of  whom  are  you  talking,  Mr. 
Cassel?" 

I  do  not  know  who  was  more  astonished  at  that,  Cassel 
or  I.  True,  the  girl  was  gone;  for  a  moment  before,  the 
Duke's  back  being  half-turned,  she  had  slipped  into  a 
doorway  a  couple  of  paces  away,  and  there  I  could  hear 
her  breathing  even  now.  But  that  my  lord  had  failed  to 
detect  the  movement  I  could  no  more  believe  than  that 
he  had  failed  to  see  the  girl  two  minutes  before,  when,  as 
clearly  as  I  ever  saw  anything  in  my  life,  I  had  seen  him 
examine  her  features. 

Nevertheless,  "I  see  no  girl,"  he  repeated  coolly. 
"But  I  see  you,  Mr.  Cassel;  and  as  the  alarm  maybe 
given  at  any  moment,  and  I  do  not  choose  to  be  found 
with  you,  I  must  beg  of  you  to  descend  at  once.  Do 
you,  sir,"  he  continued,  addressing  me  sharply,  "go 
with  him,  and  when  you  have  taken  him  back  to  the  hall 
bring  me  the  key  of  the  door." 

"Well,  I  am  d d!  "  said  Cassel. 

For  the  first  time  the  Duke  betrayed  signs  of  anger. 
"Go,  sir";  he  said.  "And  do  you" — this  to  me — 
"  bring  me  the  key  of  that  door." 

Cassel  turned  as  if  to  go;  then  with  difficulty  lifting 
his  hands  to  his  head  he  took  off  his  hat.  "  My  lord," 
he  said,  "  you  are  well  called  the  King  of  Hearts.  For  a 
Whig  you  are  a  d d  good  fellow!  " 


SHREWSBURY  271 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


What  was  preparing,  or  what  my  lord  intended  by 
conduct  so  extraordinary  I  had  no  time  to  consider.  For 
though  I  got  Cassel  into  the  hall  again  undetected — 
which  was  of  itself  a  marvel — when  it  came  to  taking 
the  key  from  the  lock  my  hand  shook  so  violently  with 
fear  and  excitement  that  the  first  attempt  failed.  Before 
I  had  succeeded  the  steward  bustled  up  through  the 
crowd,  and  seeing  what  I  was  about,  bade  me  desist  with 
some  roughness. 

"  Do  you  want  an  escape  that  way  ?  "  said  he,  bursting 
with  importance.  ''  Leave  it  to  me.  Here,  hands  off, 
man."  And  he  drew  me  into  the  hall  and  locked  the 
door. 

So  there  I  was,  fixed  as  it  were  in  the  girl's  empty 
place,  with  Cassel  grinning  at  me  on  one  side  and  the 
steward  grumbling  on  the  other,  and  the  crowd  so  thick 
about  us  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  budge  an  inch. 
It  amazed  me  that  the  girl's  absence  had  not  yet  been 
noticed,  but  I  knew  that  in  no  short  time  it  must  be, 
and  my  misery  was  in  proportion.  Presently  "  Hallo," 
cried  the  steward,  peeping  first  on  one  side  of  me  and 
then  on  the  other.    "  Where  is  that  slut  that  was  here  ?  " 

"  In  with  your  master,"  said  Cassel  coolly. 

"  But  Charnock  is  with  him." 

"Well,  I  suppose  he  can  have  two  at  a  time  if  he 
pleases,  Mr.  Pudding-head!  Thousand  devils!  Are  we 
going  to  be  kept  in  this  crowd  all  night?  " 

The  steward  sniffed  his  indignation,  but  the  answer 
satisfied  him  for  the  time;  and  the  messengers  and  tip- 
staves being  engaged  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall  in 
shepherding  their  prisoners  on  the  side  of  the  house-door, 
and  being  crowded  upon  besides  by  gentlemen  Avhom  they 


273  SHREWSBURY 

feared  to  offend,  had  no  notion  of  what  had  happened  or 
that  their  tale  was  not  complete.  Someone  had  lowered 
and  lighted  a  round  lanthorn  that  hung  in  the  middle  of 
the  hall;  but  the  light  hanging  low,  and  being  inter- 
cepted by  the  heads  of  those  before  us,  barely  reached 
the  corner  in  which  I  stood.  Still  I  knew  that  this  was 
but  a  respite,  and  my  relief  and  joy  were  great,  when  a 
cry  of  "Price!  Price!"  was  raised,  and  "Price!  Who 
is  he?  His  Grace  wants  Price!  "  passing  from  lip  to  lip, 
the  steward  thrust  me  forward,  and  called  to  the  nearest 
to  make  a  way  for  me;  and  this  being  done  I  was  speedily 
passed  through  the  crowd  to  a  door  at  the  farther  side  of 
the  hall,  where  two  servants  who  stood  on  guard  there, 
having  satisfied  themselves  that  I  was  the  man,  I  was 
admitted. 

I  knew  that  I  was  not  yet  out  of  the  wood.  Moreover  I 
had  cause  to  doubt  how  I  now  stood  in  the  Duke's  favour, 
or  what  might  be  his  intentions  towards  me.  But  at  least 
I  had  escaped  from  the  hall  and  from  the  steward  whom 
I  had  begun  to  regard  with  a  mixture  of  fear  and  hatred; 
and  I  prepared  to  face  the  ordeal  before  me  with  a  courage 
that  now  seems  astonishing.  However,  for  the  moment 
my  courage  was  not  to  be  proved.  The  room  in  Avhich  I 
found  myself  was  large  and  lofty,  lined  for  the  most  part 
with  books,  and  adorned  with  marble  busts,  that  gleamed 
ghostly  in  the  obscured  corners,  or  stood  out  bright  and 
white  where  the  radiance  of  the  candles  fell  on  them.  In 
the  middle  of  the  rich  dark  carpet  that  covered  the  floor 
stood  a  table,  furnished  with  papers,  pens,  and  books; 
and  this,  with  three  inquisitorial  chairs,  set  along  the  far- 
ther side  of  it,  had  a  formidable  air.  But  the  three  per- 
sons for  whose  accommodation  the  chairs  had  been  placed, 
were  now  on  their  feet,  standing  in  a  group  before  the 
hearth,  and  so  deeply  engrossed  in  the  subject  under  dis- 
cussion that,  if  they  were  aware  of  my  entrance,  they 
took  no  notice  of  it. 


SHREWSBURY  273 

The  Eaii  of  Marlborough,  the  more  handsome  and 
courtly  of  the  two  noblemen  whom  I  had  seen  pass  through 
the  hall,  a  man  even  then  of  a  great  and  splendid  pres- 
ence and  address,  though  not  what  he  afterwards  became, 
was  speaking,  when  finding  myself  unheeded,  I  gathered 
ray  wits  to  listen.  "  I  have  no  right  to  give  advice,  your 
Grace,"  he  was  saying  in  suave  and  courtly  accents, 
"But  I  think  yon  will  be  ill-advised  if  you  pay  much 
attention  to  what  these  rogues  allege,  or  make  it 
public." 

"No  man  will  be  safe!  "  urged  his  companion,  with, 
it  seemed  to  me,  a  note  of  anxiety  in  his  voice. 

"Better  hang  them  out  of  hand,"  responded  the  Earl 
blandly.  And  he  took  snuff  and  delicately  dusted  his 
upper  lij). 

"  Yet  I  do  not  know,"  answered  the  Duke,  who  stood 
between  the  two  with  his  eyes  on  the  fire,  and  his  back 
towards  me.  "  If  we  go  too  fast,  people  may  say,  my 
lord,  that  we  fear  what  they  might  disclose." 

The  Earl  laughed  blandly.  "You  had  little  gain  by 
Preston,"  said  he,  "and  you  kept  him  long  enough." 

"  My  Lord  Devonshire  is  anxious  to  go  into  the  matter 
thoroughly." 

"Doubtless  he  has  his  reasons,"  Lord  Marlborough 
answered,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  The  question  is — 
whether  your  Grace  has  the  same." 

"I  know  none  why  we  should  not  go  into  it,"  the 
Duke  answered  in  measured  tones  which  showed  pretty 
clearly  that  in  spite  of  his  good-nature  he  was  not  to  be 
led  blindfold.  "  They  can  have  nothing  to  say  that  will 
reflect  on  me.  And  I  am  sure,"  he  continued,  slightly 
inclining  his  head  in  courteous  fashion,  "that  the  same 
may  be  said  of  Lord  Marlborough." 

"  Cela  va  sans  dire!  "  auswered  the  Earl  in  a  voice  so 
unconstrained  and  with  a  gesture  so  proud  and  easy  that 
if  he  lied — as  some  have  been  found  ready  to  assert — he 
18 


274  SHREWSBURY 

showed  a  mastery  of  that  art  alike  amazing  and  incredi- 
ble.    "  And  of  Lord  Godolphiu  also." 

"  By  God,  yes!  "  that  peer  exclaimed,  in  such  a  hurry 
to  assent  that  his  words  tumbled  over  one  another. 

"Just  so.  I  say  so,  my  lord,"  the  Earl  repeated  with 
a  faint  ring  of  scorn  in  his  tone,  while  Lord  Godolphin 
wiped  his  forehead.  "  But  innocence  is  no  shield  against 
calumny,  and  if  these  rogues  can  prolong  their  lives  by  a 
lie,  do  you  think  that  they  will  not  tell  one  ?  Or  even 
ten?"  ' 

"Ay,  by  God,  will  they!"  cried  Godolphin.  "Or 
twenty.     I'll  lay  thee  long  odds  to  that." 

My  lord  bowed  and  admitted  that  it  was  possible. 

"So  possible,"  Lord  Marlborough  continued,  lightly 
and  pleasantly,  "that  it  is  not  long  since  your  Grace, 
unless  I  am  mistaken,  suffered  after  that  very  fashion.  I 
have  no  mind  to  probe  3'our  secrets,  Duke — God  forbid! 
I  leave  such  tasks  to  my  Lord  Portland !  But,  unless  I 
am  in  error,  when  you  last  left  office  advantage  was  taken 
of  some" — he  paused,  and  then  with  an  easy  motion  of 
his  white  hands — "  some  trifling  indiscretion.  It  was  ex- 
aggerated and  increased  tenfold,  and  placed  in  a  light  so 
false  that" — he  paused  again  to  take  a  pinch  of  snuff 
from  his  box — "that  for  a  time  even  the  King  was  in- 
duced to  believe — that  my  Lord  Shrewsbury  Avas  corres- 
ponding with  France.     Most  amusing!  " 

The  Duke  did  not  answer  for  a  moment;  then  in  a 
voice  that  shook  a  little,  "It  is  an  age  of  false  witnesses," 
he  said. 

"Precisely,"  Lord  Marlborough  answered,  shrugging 
his  shoulders  with  charming  honhomie.  "  That  is  what  I 
say.  They  do  not  greatly  hurt  you  or  me.  We  have 
clear  consciences  and  clean  hands;  and  can  defy  these 
ruffians.     But  the  party  must  be  considered." 

"There  is  something  in  that,"  said  the  Duke,  nod- 
ding and  speaking  in  his  natural  tone. 


SHREWSBURY  275 

"  And  smaller  men,  as  innocent,  but  more  vulnerable — 
they  too  should  be  considered." 

"True,"  said  Lord  Godolphin,  nodding.  "True,  by- 
God." 

The  Duke  assented  thoughtfully.  "I  will  bear  it  in 
mind,"  he  said.     "  I  think  it  is  a  questionable  policy." 

"In  any  event  I  am  sure  that  your  Grace's  prudence 
will  steer  the  matter  to  a  safe  issue,"  Lord  Marlborough 
answered  in  his  courtliest  fashion.  "  I  thank  Heaven 
that  you  are  here  in  this  emergency,  and  not  Portland 
or  Auverquerque,  who  see  a  foe  to  the  King  in  every 
Englishman." 

"I  should  be  sorry  to  see  any  but  an  Englishman  in 
the  Secretary's  office,"  the  Duke  said,  with  a  little  heat. 

"  And  yet  that  is  what  we  have  to  expect,"  Lord  Marl- 
borough answered  placidly.  "  But  we  are  detaining  your 
Grace.  Come,  my  lord,  we  must  be  going.  I  suppose 
that  Sir  John  is  not  taken  ?  " 

"  Sir  John  Fenwick  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  It  has  not  been  reported." 

With  that  the  two  noblemen  took  a  formal  farewell, 
and  the  Duke  begging  them  to  go  out  by  his  private 
door  that  they  might  avoid  the  press  in  the  hall,  they 
were  crossing  the  room  in  that  direction,  w^hen  a  sudden 
hubbub  arose  outside  and  a  cry  of  alarm,  and  before 
they  had  more  than  raised  their  eyebrows,  asking  one 
another  politely  what  it  meant,  the  door  beside  which  I 
stood  was  opened,  and  a  gentleman  came  in.  He  looked 
with  a  flustered  face  at  the  Duke.  "  Your  Grace's  par- 
don," he  said  hurriedly.  "One  of  the  prisoners  has 
escaped! " 

' '  Escaped !  "  said  the  Duke.     ' '  How  ?  ' ' 

"The  woman  lias  somehow  slipped  away.  Through 
the  crowd  it  is  believed,  your  Grace.  The  messen- 
ger  " 


276  SHREWSBURY 

But  at  that  moment  the  unfortunate  official  himself 
appeared  in  the  doorway,  looking  scared  out  of  his  life, 
"  What  is  this?"  said  tlie  Duke  sharply. 

The  man  whimpered.  "  'Fore  God  it  is  not  my 
fault,"  he  cried.  "  She  never  passed  through  the  door! 
May  I  die  if  she  did,  your  Grace." 

"  She  may  be  still  in  the  hall  ?  " 

"  We  have  searched  it  through  and  through!  "  the  man 
answered  desperately.  "It  remains  only  to  search  the 
house,  your  Grace — with  your  permission." 

"  What!  "  the  Duke  cried,  really  or  apparently  start- 
led.    "  Why  the  house  ?  " 

"She  must  have  slipped  into  the  house,  for  she  never 
went  out!"  the  man  answered  doggedly.  "She  never 
went  out! " 

The  Duke  shrusfged  his  shoulders  and  turned  to  Lord 
Marlborough.     "'  What  do  you  think  ?  "  said  he. 

The  Earl  raised  his  eyebrows.  By  this  time  half  the 
concourse  in  the  hall  had  pressed  to  the  doorway,  and 
were  staring  into  the  room.  "Call  Martin,"  said  the 
Duke.  "And  stand  back  there  a  little,  if  you  please," 
he  continued  haughtily.  "  This  is  no  public  court,  but 
my  house,  good  people." 

It  seemed  to  me — but  I,  behind  the  door,  was  in  a 
boundless  fright — that  the  steward  would  never  come. 
He  did  come  at  last,  and  pushing  his  way  througli  the 
crowd,  presented  himself  with  a  bustling  confidence  that 
failed  to  hide  his  apprehensions.  Nor  was  the  Duke's 
reception  of  him  calculated  to  set  him  at  his  ease. 

"  Stand  out,  man!  "  he  said  harshly,  and  Avith  a  nearer 
approach  to  the  tyrannical  than  I  had  hitherto  seen  in 
a  man,  who  was  perhaps  the  best-natured  of  his  species. 
"  Stand  out  and  answer  me,  and  no  evasions.  Did  I  not 
give  you  an  order  of  the  strictest  character,  to  lock  the 
inner  door  and  leave  it  for  nothing,  and  no  one — while 
this  business  was  forward  ?  " 


SHREWSBURY  277 

Martin  gasped.     "  May  it  please  your  Grace,"  he  said, 

a  T 5  5 

"Answer,  fool,  what  I  ask,"  the  Duke  cried,  cutting 
him  short  with  the  utmost  asperity.  "  Did  I  not  give 
you  those  orders  ?  " 

The  man  was  astonished,  and  utterly  terrified.  "  Yes," 
he  said.     "  It  is  true,  your  Grrace." 

"  And  did  you  obey  them  ?  " 

Poor  Martin,  seeing  that  all  the  trouble  was  like  to 
rest  on  his  back,  answered  as  in  all  probability  the  Duke 
expected.  "I  did,  your  Grace,"  he  said  roundly.  "I 
have  not  been  an  arm's  length  from  the  door,  nor  has  it 
been  unlocked.  I  have  the  key  here,"  he  continued, 
producing  it  and  holding  it  up. 

"  Has  anyone  passed  through  the  door  while  you  have 
been  on  guard  ?  " 

The  steward  had  gone  too  far  to  confess  the  truth  now, 
and  swore  positively  and  repeatedly  that  no  one  had  passed 
through  the  door  or  could  have  passed  through  the  door; 
that  it  was  impossible;  that  the  door  had  been  locked  all 
the  time,  and  the  key  in  his  possession:  finally,  that  if 
the  girl  had  gone  through  the  door  she  must  have  gone 
through  the  keyhole,  and  was  a  witch.  At  which  some 
present  crossed  themselves. 

"I  am  satisfied,"  said  the  Duke,  addressing  the  mes- 
senger. "Doubtless  she  slijiped  through  the  crowd. 
But  as  you  are  responsible  and  will  have  to  answer 
for  the  girl,  I  would  advise  you  to  lose  no  time  in 
searching  such  of  Mr.  Ferguson's  haunts  as  are  known 
to  you.  It  is  probable  tbat  she  will  take  refuge  in  one 
or  other  of  them.  However,  I  will  report  the  matter 
as  favourably  as  I  can  to  the  council.  You  can  go. 
Lodge  the  others  according  to  the  warrants,  and  make  no 
second  blunder.  See  these  people  out,  Martin.  And 
for  you,  my  lords,  I  am  sorry  that  this  matter  has  de- 
tained you." 


278  SHREWSBURY 

'^  La  fille — 7ie  velait  pas  heaiicoup  V  said  the  Earl 
curiously. 

''^  Pas  de  tout!''''  my  lord  answered,  and  smiling, 
shrugged  his  shoulders.     "  Rien  I  " 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

With  the  least  inclination  towards  merriment  I  must 
have  laughed  at  the  face  of  horror  with  which  Mr. 
Martin,  when  he  went  a  few  minutes  later,  to  expel  the 
last  stragglers,  came  on  me  where  I  stood,  trying  to  efface 
myself  behind  the  door.  He  dared  not  speak,  for  the 
Duke  was  standing  at  the  table  a  few  paces  from  him; 
and  I  would  not  budge.  Fortunately  I  remembei^ed  that 
a  still  tongue  was  all  he  need  wish;  and  I  laid  my  finger 
on  my  lips  and  nodded  to  him.  This  a  little  encouraged 
him,  but  not  much ;  and  in  his  fear  of  what  I  might,  in 
sj)ite  of  my  promise,  let  out,  if  I  were  left  alone  with  his 
master,  he  was  still  in  two  minds  whether  he  should  eject 
me  or  not,  when  the  Duke  spoke. 

"  Is  Price  there  ?  "  he  said  with  his  face  averted,  and  his 
hands  still  busy  with  the  papers.     "  The  man  I  sent  for." 

"Yes,  your  Grace,"  Martin  answered,  making  hideous 
faces  at  me. 

"  Then  leave  us.     Shut  the  door." 

If  my  lord  had  spoken  the  moment  that  was  done  and 
we  were  alone,  I  think  it  would  have  relieved  me.  But 
he  continued  to  search  among  the  papers  on  the  table, 
and  left  me  to  sink  under  the  weight  of  the  stately  room 
with  its  ordered  rows  of  books,  its  ticking  dial,  and  the 
mute  busts  of  the  great  dead.  The  Duke's  cloak  lay  across 
a  chair,  his  embroidered  star  glittering  on  the  breast;  his 
sword  and  despatch-box  were  on  another  chair;  and  a 


SHREWSBURY  279 

thing  that  I  took  to  be  the  signet  gleamed  among  the 
papers  on  the  table.  From  the  lofty  mantel-piece  of 
veined  marble  that,  sujjported  by  huge  rampant  dogs, 
towered  high  above  me  (the  work  as  I  learned  afterwards 
of  the  great  Inigo  Jones),  the  portrait  of  a  man  in  armour, 
with  a  warden  in  his  mailed  hand,  frowned  down  on  me, 
and  the  stillness  continuing  unbroken,  and  all  the  things 
I  saw  speaking  to  me  gravely  and  weightily,  of  a  world 
hitherto  unknown  to  me — a  world  wherein  the  foot  ex- 
changed the  thick  pile  of  carpets  for  the  sounding  tread 
of  Parian,  and  orders  were  obeyed  unspoken,  and  sable- 
vested  servants  went  to  and  fro  at  a  sign — a  world  of  old 
traditions,  old  observances,  and  old  customs  revolving 
round  this  man  still  young,  I  felt  my  spirits  sink — the 
distance  was  so  great  from  the  sphere  I  had  known  hith- 
erto. Every  moment  the  silence  grew  more  oppressive, 
the  ticking  of  the  clock  more  monotonous;  it  was  an  im- 
mense relief  when  the  Duke  suddenly  spoke,  and  address- 
ing me  in  his  ordinary  tone,  "  You  can  write?  "  said  he. 

"  Yes,  your  Grace." 

"  Then  sit  here,"  he  replied,  indicating  a  seat  at  the 
end  of  the  table,  "  and  write  what  I  shall  tell  you." 

And  before  I  could  marvel  at  the  ease  of  the  transition, 
I  was  seated,  quietly  writing;  what  I  can  no  longer  remem- 
ber, for  it  was  the  first  only  of  many  hundred  papers,  of 
private  and  public  importance,  which  I  was  privileged  to 
write  for  his  signature.  My  hand  shook,  and  it  is  un- 
likely that  I  exhibited  much  of  the  natural  capacity  for 
such  work  which  it  has  been  my  lot  to  manifest  since; 
nevertheless,  his  Grace  after  glancing  over  it,  was  pleased 
to  express  his  satisfaction.  "  You  learned  to  do  this 
with  Brome  ?  "  said  he. 

"Yes,  your  Grace." 

"Then  how,"  he  continued,  seating  himself — I  had 
risen  respectfully — ''  Tell  me  what  happened  to  you  yes- 
terday. ' ' 


280  SHREWSBURY 

I  had  no  choice  but  to  obey,  but  before  I  told  my  story, 
seeing  that  he  was  in  a  good  humour  and  so  favourably 
inclined  to  me,  I  spoke  out  what  was  in  my  mind ;  and 
in  the  most  moving  terms  possible  I  conjured  him  to 
promise  me  that  I  should  not  be  forced  to  be  an  evidence. 
I  would  tell  him  all,  I  would  be  faithful  and  true  to  him, 
and  ask  nothing  better  than  to  be  his  servant — but  be  an 
informer  in  court  I  dared  not. 

"You  dare  not?"  he  said,  with  an  odd  look  at  me. 
"  Aud  why  not,  man  ?  " 

But  all  I  could  answer  was,  "  I  dare  not!  " 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  these  villains?  "  he  continued,  im- 
patiently. "I  tell  you,  we  have  them:  it  is  they  who 
have  to  fear ! ' ' 

But  I  still  clung  to  my  point.  I  would  tell,  but  I 
would  give  no  evidence;  I  dared  not. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Price,"  he  said  at  that,  and  with  an 
air  of  some  contempt,  "  that  you  are  something  of  a 
coward!  " 

I  answered,  grovelling  before  him,  that  it  might  be — it 
might  be;  but 

"  But — who  of  us  is  not  ?  "  he  answered,  with  a  sudden 
gesture  between  scorn  and  self- reproof.  "  Do  you  mean 
that,  man?"  And  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  me.  "  Well,  it 
is  true.  Who  of  us  is  not?"  he  repeated,  slowly;  and 
turning  from  me,  he  began  to  pace  the  room,  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him;  so  that  before  he  had  made  a  single 
turn  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  had  forgotten  my  presence. 
"  Who  of  us  is  not  afraid — if  not  of  these  scoundrels, 
still  of  the  future,  of  the  return,  of  Jacobus  iraaindus  et 
ingetis,  of  another  29th  of  May  ?  To  be  safe  now  and  to 
be  safe  then — who  is  not  thinking  of  that  and  living  for 
that,  and  j^lanning  for  that?  " 

He  was  silent  a  moment,  then  with  something  of  anger 
in  his  voice,  "  My  Lord  Marlborough,  dipped  to  the  lips 
in  '88,  who  shall  say  that  for  all  that  he  has  not  made  his 


SHREWSBURY 


281 


peace  ?    And  has  good  reason  to  urge  us  to  let  sleeping 
dogs  lie  ?     And  Godolphin,  is  it  only  at  Newmarket  he 


AND   TURNING  FROM  ME,  HE  BEGAN  TO   PACE  THE  ROOM,  HIS  HANDS 

CLASI'ED    BEHIND    HIM 


has  hedged — that  he  says,  the  less  we  go  into  this  the 
better?  And  Sunderland  who  trusts  no  one  and  whom 
no  one  trusts  ?     And  Leeds— all  tilings  for  power  ?     And 


282  SHREWSBURY 

Clarendon,  once  pardoned  ?  And  Russell,  all  temper  ? 
Who  knows  what  pledges  they  have  given,  or  may  give  ? 
Devonshire — Devonshire  only  has  to  lose,  and  stands  to 
lose  with  me.     With  me !  " 

As  he  spoke  thus  he  seemed  to  be  so  human,  and  through 
the  robe  of  state  and  stateliness  in  which  he  lived  the 
beating  of  the  poor  human  heart  was  so  plainly  visible, 
that  my  heart  went  out  to  him,  and  with  an  eager- 
ness and  boldness  that  now  surprise  me,  I  spoke  to 
him. 

"But,  your  Grace,"  I  said,  ''while  the  King  lives  all 
goes  well,  and  were  anything  to  happen  to  him " 

"Yes?"  said  he,  staring  at  me,  and  no  little  aston- 
ished at  the  interruption. 

"  There  is  the  Princess  Anne.  She  is  here,  she  would 
succeed,  and " 

"And  my  Lord  Marlborough!"  said  he,  smiling. 
"  Well,  it  may  be.  But  who  taught  you  politics,  Mr. 
Price?" 

"  Mr.  Brome,"  said  I,  abashed.  "  What  I  know,  your 
Grace. ' ' 

"Ha!  I  keep  forgetting,"  he  answered,  gaily,  "that  I 
am  talking  to  one  of  the  makers  of  opinion — the  formers 
of  taste.  But  there,  you  shall  be  no  evidence,  I  give  you 
my  word.  So  tell  me  all  you  know,  and  what  befell  you 
yesterday." 

I  had  no  desire  but  to  do  so — on  those  terms,  and  one 
small  matter  excepted — and  not  only  to  do  that,  but  all 
things  that  could  serve  him.  Nevertheless,  and  though 
I  had  high  hopes  of  what  I  might  get  by  his  grace  and 
favour,  I  was  far  from  understanding  that  that  was  the 
beginning  of  twenty  years  of  faithful  labour  at  his  side; 
of  a  matter  of  fifteen  thousand  papers  written  under  his 
eye;  of  whole  ledgers  made  up,  of  estate  accompts  bal- 
anced and  tallies  collected;  of  many  winters  and  summers 
spent  among  his  books,  either  in  the  placid  shades  of 


SHREWSBURY  283 

Eyford  or  in  the  dignified  quiet  of  St.  James's  Square. 
But,  as  I  liave  said,  though  I  did  not  foresee  all  this,  I 
hoped  much,  and  more  as,  my  tale  proceeding,  my  lord's 
generous  emotion  became  evident.  When  I  had  done,  he 
said  many  kind  things  to  me  respecting  the  peril  I  had 
escaped ;  and  adding  to  their  value  by  his  manner  of 
saying  them,  and  by  the  charm  which  no  other  so  jier- 
fectly  possessed,  he  left  me  at  last  no  resource  but  to  quit 
the  room  in  tears. 

Treated  thus  with  a  kindness  as  much  above  my  deserts 
as  it  was  admirable  in  one  of  his  transcendent  rank,  and 
assured,  moreover,  by  my  lord's  own  mouth  that  hence- 
forth, in  gratitude  for  the  service  I  had  done  him  in 
Ferguson's  room,  he  would  jH-ovide  for  me,  I  should  have 
stood,  I  ought  to  have  stood,  in  the  seventh  heaven  of 
felicity.  But  as  suffering  moves  unerring  on  the  track  of 
weakness,  and  no  man  enjoys  at  any  moment  perfect  bliss, 
I  had  first  to  learn  the  fate  of  the  girl  whose  evasion  I 
had  contrived.  And  when  a  cautious  search  and  ques- 
tions as  crafty  had  satisfied  me  that  she  had  really  effected 
her  escape  from  the  house — probably  in  a  man's  dress,  for 
one  of  the  lacqueys  comj)lained  of  the  loss  of  a  suit  of 
clothes — I  had  still  a  care;  and  a  care  which  gnawed  more 
sharply  with  every  hour  of  ease  and  safety. 

Needless  to  say,  the  one  matter  on  which  I  had  been 
reticent,  the  one  actor  whose  presence  on  the  scene  I  had 
not  disclosed  to  my  lord,  lay  at  the  bottom  of  my  anxiety. 
Kind  in  action  and  generous  in  intention  as  the  Duke 
had  shown  himself,  his  magnanimity  had  not  availed  to 
oust  from  my  mind  the  terror  with  which  Smith's  threats 
had  imbued  it;  nor  while  confessing  all  else  had  I  been 
able  to  bring  myself  to  denounce  the  conspirator  or  detail 
the  terms  on  which  he  had  set  me  free.  Though  I  had 
all  the  inducement  to  speak,  which  the  certainty  that  his 
arrest  would  release  me,  could  present,  even  this,  and 
the  security  of  the  haven  in  which  I  lay,  failed  to  encour- 


284  SHREWSBURY 

age  me  to  the  point  of  hazard.  So  strong  was  the  hold 
on  my  fears  which  this  man  had  compassed;  and  so  com- 
plete the  slavery  to  which  he  had  reduced  my  will. 

But  though  at  the  time  of  confession,  I  found  it  a  relief 
to  be  silent  about  him,  this  same  silence  presently  left  me 
alone  to  cope  with  him,  and  with  fears  sufficienly  poignant, 
which  his  memory  awakened:  the  result  being  that  with 
prospects  more  favourable  and  a  future  better  assured  than 
I  had  ever  imagined  would  be  mine,  or  than  any  man  of 
my  condition  had  a  right  to  expect,  I  still  found  this 
drop  of  poison  in  my  cup.  It  was  not  enough  that  all 
things — and  my  patron — favouring  me,  I  sank  easily  into 
the  position  of  his  jirivy  clerk,  that  I  retained  that  excel- 
lent room  in  which  I  had  first  been  jolaced,  that  I  found 
myself  accepted  by  the  household  as  a  fact — so  that  never 
a  man  saved  from  drowning  by  a  strand  had  a  right  to 
praise  his  fortune  as  I  had ;  nor  that,  the  wind  from  every 
quarter,  seeming  at  the  same  time  to  abate,  the  prisoners 
went  for  trial,  and  nothing  said  of  me,  while  Ferguson, 
of  whose  complicity  no  legal  proof  could  be  found,  lay 
in  prison  under  the  suspension  of  the  Habeas  Corpus, 
and  kept  silence;  nor  even  that  a  note  came  from  Mary, 
ostensibly  from  Dunkirk,  and  without  compromising  me 
informed  me  of  her  safety.  It  was  not  enough,  I  say, 
that  each  and  all  of  these  things  happened  beyond  my 
hopes;  for  in  the  midst  of  my  prosperity,  whether  I  stood 
writing  at  my  lord's  elbow  in  the  stillness  of  the  stately 
library,  or  moved  at  ease  through  the  corridor,  greeted 
with  respect  by  my  fellow-servants,  and  with  civility  by 
all,  I  was  alike  haunted  by  the  thought  and  terror  of 
Smith,  and  the  knowledge  that  at  any  moment,  the  con- 
spirator might  appear  to  hurl  me  from  this  paradise. 
The  secrecy  which  I  had  maintained  about  him  doubled 
his  power;  even  as  the  ease  and  luxury  in  which  I  lived 
presented  in  darker  and  fouler  colours  the  sordid  scenes 
and  perils  through  which  I  had  waded  to  this  eminence. 


SHREWSBURY  285 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

I  THINK  that  I  had  spent  a  Aveek,  or  it  might  be  more, 
in  this  situation  of  mingled  ease  and  torment,  when  on 
coming  down  one  morning  after  a  hag-ridden  night  I 
heard  a^stir  in  the  hall;  and,  going  that  way  to  leara  what 
it  meant,  met  the  servants  returning  in  a  crowd  from 
the  front,  and  talking  low  about  something.  Martin, 
who  was  foremost,  cried,  "  Ha,  you  are  too  late!  "  And 
then  drawing  me  aside,  into  a  little  den  he  had  beside  the 
passage,  "They  have  taken  him  to  the  office,"  he  said. 
"But,  lord's  sakes,  Mr.  Price,"  he  continued,  lifting 
his  eyebrows  and  pursing  up  his  lips  to  express  his  aston- 
ishment, "who  would  have  thought  it?  Her  ladyship 
will  be  in  a  taking!  I  hope  that  there  may  be  no  more 
in  it  than  appears ! ' ' 

"  In  what  ?"  said  I. 

"In  this  arrest,"  he  answered,  eyeing  me  with  mean- 
ing, and  then  softly  closing  the  door  on  us.  "  I  hope  it 
may  end  there.     That  is  all  I  say!     Between  ourselves." 

"You  forget,"  I  cried  with  irritation,  "  that  I  know 
nothing  about  it!     What  arrest  ?   And  who  is  arrested  ?  " 

"Mr.  Bridges's  man  of  business." 

"  What  MrT  Bridges?  "  I  cried. 

"Lord,  Mr.  Price,  have  you  no  wits?"  he  answered, 
staring  at  me.  "My  lord's  mother's  husband.  The 
Countess's,  to  be  sure!     You  must  know  Mr.  Smith." 

It  needed  no  more  than  that;  although,  without  the 
name,  we  might  have  gone  on  at  cross  purposes  for  an 
hour.  But  the  name — the  world  held  only  one  Smith  for 
me,  and  he  it  seemed  was  arrested. 

He  was  arrested!  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
that  I  could  control  my  joy.  Fortunately  the  little  cub, 
where  we  stood,  was  ill-lighted,  and  Martin,  a  man  too 


386  SHREWSBURY 

much  taken  up  with  his  own  consequence  to  be  over- 
observant  of  his  companions.  Still,  for  a  moment,  I  was 
perfectly  overcome,  the  effervescence  of  my  spirits  such 
that  I  could  do  nothing  but  lean  against  the  wall  of  the 
room,  my  heart  bounding  with  joy  and  my  head  singing 
a  pa^an  of  jubilation.  Smith  was  taken!  Smith  was  in 
the  hands  of  justice!     Smith  was  arrested  and  I  was  free. 

The  first  rapture  past,  however,  I  began  to  doubt; 
partly  because  the  news  seemed  to  be  too  good  to  be  true, 
and  partly  because,  though  Martin  had  continued  to  bab- 
ble, I  had  heard  not  a  word.  Wild,  therefore,  to  have 
the  thing  confirmed,  I  cut  him  short;  and  crying,  "  But 
what  Smith  is  it,  do  you  say?  Who  is  he?  "  I  brought 
him  back  to  the  point  at  which  he  had  left  me. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Price,"  he  answered,  "  I  thought  everyone 
knew  Mr.  Smith.  Mr.  Smith,  Mr.  Bridges's  factotum, 
land-steward,  what  you  will !  He  married  the  Countess's 
fine  madam — madame  they  call  her  in  the  household, 
though  she  is  no  French  thing  but  Hertfordshire  born, 
as  I  knew  by  her  speech  when  my  lord  first  took  up  with 
her.     But  not  everyone  knows  that." 

"When  my  lord  took  up  with  her?"  I  said,  groping 
among  half-recognised  objects,  and  beginning — so  much 
light  may  come  through  the  least  chink — to  S38  day. 

j\[r.  Martin  nodded  confidentially.  "That  is  how  she 
came  to  be  with  my  lady,"  he  said.  "And  Mr.  Smith, 
too !  My  lord  met  her  somewhere  when  he  was  young 
and  gay  and  took  up  with  her,  and  to  please  her  got  the 
place  for  Mr.  Smith,  who  had  been  her  flame  before. 
However,  my  lord  soon  tired  of  her,  for  though  she  was 
a  beauty  she  had  common  ways  and  was  bold  as  brass;  so 
when  he  parted  from  her  she  went  back  to  her  old  love, 
who  had  first  made  her  the  mode,  and  married  him.  I 
have  heard  that  my  lord  was  in  a  pretty  taking  when  he 
found  her  planted  at  the  Countess's.  But  I  have  nothing 
to  say  against  her." 


SHREWSBURY  287 

"  Does  my  lord — see  her  now  ?  "  I  said  with  an  effort. 

"  When  he  does  he  looks  pretty  black  at  her.  And  I 
fancy  that  there  is  no  love  lost  on  her  side." 

"  What  did  you  say  that — they  called  her  ?  "  I  asked. 

'^Madame — Madame  Monterey." 

I  remembered  where  I  had  heard  the  name  before  and 
who  had  borne  it;  and  saw  so  much  light  that  I  was  daz- 
zled. ."And  my  lord's  mother — who  married  Mr. 
Bridges.     She  is  a  Pa2:)ist  ?  " 

"  Hush!  "  he  said.  "  The  less  said  about  such  things 
the  better,  Mr.  Price." 

But  I  persisted.  "It  was  she  who  ran  off  with  my 
Lord  Buckingham  in  King  Charles's  time,"  I  cried, 
"and  held  his  horse  while  he  killed  her  husband?  And 
who  had  Mr.  Killigrew  stabbed  in  the  street;  and " 

In  a  panic  he  clapped  his  hand  on  my  mouth.  "  God, 
man!  "  he  cried,  "  do  you  know  where  you  are,  or  is  your 
head  turned  ?  Do  you  think  that  this  house  is  a  fit  place 
to  give  tongue  to  such  things?  Lord,  you  will  be  but  a 
short  time  here,  and  to  the  pillory  when  you  go,  if  you 
throw  your  tongue  that  way !  I  have  not  blabbed  as  much 
in  twenty  years,  and  would  not  for  a  kingdom!  Who 
are  you  to  talk  of  such  as  my  lady  ?  " 

He  was  so  righteously  indignant  at  the  presumption  of 
which  I  had  been  guilty  in  attacking  the  family  that, 
though  it  was  his  own  indiscretion  that  had  led  me  to 
the  point,  I  made  haste  to  mutter  an  apology,  and  doing 
this  with  the  better  grace  for  the  remembrance  that 
Smith  was  now  powerless  and  his  wicked  plans  abortive, 
I  contrived  presently  to  appease  him.  But  the  ferment 
which  the  discovery  I  had  made  wrought  in  my  spirits 
moved  me  to  escape  as  quickly  as  possible  to  my  room, 
there  to  consider  at  leisure  the  miserable  position  in 
which,  but  for  Smith's  timely  capture,  I  must  have  found 
myself. 

A  suspicion  of  the  truth  I  had  entertained  before;  but 


288  SHREWSB  UR  Y 

this  certainty  that  the  man  I  was  to  be  trepanned  into 
jiersouating  was  my  benefactor,  and  that  in  the  plot  his 
own  mother  was  engaged,  filled  me  with  as  much  horror, 
when  I  considered  the  necessity  of  complying  nnder 
which  I  might  have  lain,  as  thankfulness  when  I  reflected 
on  the  escape  I  had  had.  Nor  did  these  two  consider- 
ations, overwhelming  as  they  may  well  appear,  account  for 
all  the  agitation  I  was  experiencing.  Mr.  Martin,  in 
speaking  of  Madame  Monterey's  origin,  had  mentioned 
Hertfordshire;  and  the  name,  bringing  together  two  sets 
of  facts  hitherto  so  distant  in  my  mind  that  I  had  never 
undertaken  to  connect  them,  had  in  a  flash  presented 
Smith  and  madame  in  their  true  colours.  Why  I  had 
not  before  associated  the  Smith  I  now  knew  with  that 
Templar  Smith  whom  I  darkly  remembered  as  Jennie's 
accomplice  in  my  early  trouble;  why  I  had  not  recognised 
in  the  woman's  coarsely  handsome  features  the  charms 
that  thirteen  years  before  had  fired  my  boy's  blood  and 
brought  me  to  the  foot  of  the  gallows,  is  not  more  diffi- 
cult to  explain  than  why  this  one  mention  of  Hertford- 
shire sufficed  to  raise  the  curtain;  ay,  and  not  only  to 
raise  it,  but  to  set  the  whole  drama  so  plainly  before  me 
that  I  could  be  no  wiser  had  I  followed  every  scene  in 
madame's  life,  and,  a  witness  of  her  shameful  debut 
under  Smith's  protection,  her  seduction  of  my  lord  and 
her  period  of  splendour,  had  attended  her  in  her  final  de- 
clension when,  a  discarded  mistress,  she  saw  no  better 
alternative  than  a  marriage  with  her  former  protector. 

How  greatly  this  identification  of  the  two  conspirators 
increased,  as  well  as  the  loathing  in  which  I  held  their 
schemes,  as  my  relief  upon  the  reflection  that  those 
schemes  were  now  futile,  I  will  not  say.  Suffice  it  that 
the  knowledge  that,  but  for  Smith's  arrest,  I  must  have 
chosen  between  playing  the  basest  part  in  the  world  and 
running  a  risk  whereat  I  shuddered,  filled  me  with  thank- 
fulness immeasurable,  a  thankfulness  which  I  did  not  fail 


SHREWSBURY  289 

to  pour  out  on  my  knees,  and  which  was  in  no  degree 
lessened  by  a  shuddering  consciousness  that  in  that  dilem- 
ma, had  Providence  not  averted  it,  I  might  have — ay, 
should  have — played  the  baser  part! 

No  wonder  that  a  hundred  harrowing  recollections 
crowded  on  my  mind,  or  that  under  the  pressure  of  these 
the  tumult  of  my  spirits  became  so  powerful  tliat  I  pres- 
ently seized  my  hat,  and  hastily  escaping  from  the  house, 
sought  in  rapid  movement  some  relief  from  the  unpleas- 
ant retrospect.  Crossing  the  Green  Park,  I  chose  a  field 
path  that  led  by  the  Pimlico  marshes  to  Fulham;  and 
gradually  the  songs  of  the  larks  and  the  spring  sunsliine 
— for  the  day  was  calm  and  serene — leading  my  mind  into 
a  more  cheerful  groove,  I  began  to  dwell  rather  on  the 
fact  of  my  escape  than  on  the  crime  from  which  I  had 
escaped,  and  contemplating  the  secure  career  that  now 
lay  in  view  before  me,  I  was  not  long  in  seeing  that 
thankfulness  should  be  mv  stronijest  feeliuo;.  Turning 
my  back  on  Smith  and  his  like,  I  began  to  build  my  house 
again;  saw  a  smiling  wife  and  babes,  and  days  spent  be- 
tween my  home  and  my  lord's  papers;  and  then  a  green 
old  age  and  slippered  feet  tottering  through  the  quiet 
shades  of  a  library.  Before  I  turned  I  had  roofed  the 
house  with  an  honourable  headstone,  and  felt  the  tears 
rise  in  generous  sympathy  with  the  village  assembled  to 
do  the  old  man  honour. 

In  a  word,  tasting  the  full  relief  of  emancipation,  I 
became  so  gay  and  lightsome  that  even  the  smoke  and  din 
of  London,  when  I  re-entered  it,  failed  to  subdue  the 
unusual  humour.  I  could  have  sung,  I  could  have 
laughed  aloud.  Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead!  For 
Ferguson,  Smith,  the  Monterey — a  fig!  Who  had  come 
oS  best  after  all  ?  And  of  their  fine  plottings  and  con- 
trivings  what  had  been  the  upshot  ?  They  had  failed  and 
I  had  triumphed;  they  Avere  prisoners,  I  was  free  and 
safe. 

19 


390  SHREWSBURY 

Near  the  garden-wall  of  Buckingham  House  there  was 
a  bear  dancing,  and  a  press  of  people  round  it.  I  stayed 
to  watch,  and  in  my  mood,  found  the  fun  so  much  to  my 
taste  that  I  threw  the  man  a  penny  and  went  on  laughing. 
A  little  further,  by  the  edge  of  the  lake,  was  a  man  with 
a  barrow  and  dice — then  a  novelty,  though  now  so  preva- 
lent that  at  the  last  sessions,  I  am  told,  the  thing  was 
presented  for  a  nuisance.  I  stood  here  and  saw  a  man 
lose,  and  in  the  exaltation  of  my  spirits,  pushed  him  aside 
and  laid  down  a  shilling,  and  won,  and  won  again — and 
again;  whether  the  cog  failed  or  the  truckster  who  owned 
the  barrow  thought  me  a  good  bait.  Either  way  I  took 
up  my  winnings  with  an  air  and  hectored  away  as  good  a 
bully  as  another;  placed  for  the  moment  so  far  above  my- 
self and  common  modesty,  that  I  wondered  whether  I 
should  ever  sink  back  into  the  timid  citizen,  or  feel  my 
eyes  drop  before  a  bravo 's. 

Alas,  in  a  moment,  qnantum  mntatus  ah  illo  !  At  the 
corner  of  the  Cockpit,  towards  Sion  House,  I  met  Matthew 
Smith. 

I  had  no  doubt.  I  knew  all  in  an  instant,  and  turned 
sick.  He  was  free,  alone,  walking  with  his  head  high 
and  an  easy  gait.  Worse,  he  saw  me ;  saw  how  I  cowered 
and  shrank  into  myself,  and  became  another  man  at 
sight  of  him! 

Slackening  his  pace  as  he  came  up,  he  halted  before 

me,  with  that  quiet  devil's  grin  on  his  face.     "  Well,"  he 

said,  ''  how  are  you,  Mr.  Price ?     I  was  looking  for  you." 

'  "  For  me  ?  "  I  muttered.     "  I  thought— I  heard— that 

you  were  arrested." 

"  A  mistake!  "  he  answered,  continuing  to  smile.  "  A 
mistake!     Some  other  Smith." 

"  And  you  were  not  arrested  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  Oh,  I  was  arrested!  "  he  answered  jauntily.  "And 
taken  to  the  Secretary.  And  of  course  released.  There  I 
you  have  it  all." 


SERE  WSB  UR  Y  291 

I  uttered  an  exclamation;  two  words  wrung  from  me 
by  despair. 

Thereat,  and  pretending  to  misunderstand  me.  "  You 
thank  God?  Very  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Price,"  said  he 
grinning.  "Like  master,  like  man,  I  see.  The  Duke 
was  kindness  itself.  But  I  must  be  going."  And  then, 
arresting  himself  in  the  act  of  leaving  me,  "You  have 
heard/'  he  continued,  "that  the  poor  devil  Charnock 
stands  his  trial  to-morrow  ?  Porter  is  an  evidence,  and 
by  Monday  the  parson  will  swing.  It  should  be  a  warn- 
ing to  us,"  he  continued,  shaking  his  head  with  a  smile 
that  chilled  the  marrow  in  my  bones,  "what  company 
we  keep.  A  rascal  like  Porter  might  see  you  or  me  in 
the  street — and  swear  to  us.  Ha!  Ha!  It  sounds  mon- 
strous odd,  but  so  it  might  be.  But  by-by,  Mr.  Price. 
I  must  not  keep  you." 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

The  state  in  which  I  crawled  back  to  the  house  after 
this  encounter  maybe  conceived  but  not  described.  From 
an  exaltation  of  mind  to  which  the  epithet  delirious 
might  be  applied  with  propriety,  I  fell  in  an  instant  to  a 
depth  of  abjectness  as  monstrous  as  my  late  felicity,  but 
more  real  and  reasouable.  All  the  things,  on  my  escape 
from  which  I  had  been  congratulating  myself,  now  lay 
before  me,  and  formed  a  vista  as  gloomy  as  the  point  to 
which  it  tended  was  dreadful.  To  be  a  slave  to  the 
woman  and  man  who  had  ruined  my  youth;  to  live  out- 
wardly at  ease,  while  inwardly  devoured  by  daily  and 
hourly  terror;  to  hang  between  the  choice  of  danger  or 
baseness,  comfort  or  treachery;  to  discern  in  my  own  de- 
struction or  my  patron's  the  inevitable  ending;  beyond 


293  SHREWSBURY 

all,  to  foresee  that  I  should  choose  the  evil  and  eschew  the 
good,  and  to  wish  it  otherwise  and  be  powerless  to  change 
it — these  things,  and  particularly  the  last,  filled  me  with 
anticipations  of  misery  so  great  that  I  rolled  on  my  bed, 
and  cursed  Providence  and  my  fate;  and  next  day  went 
down  so  pale,  and  ill,  and  woe-begone  that  the  servants 
took  note  of  it. 

"  Plieugh,  Mr.  Price,"  said  Martin,  "you  might  be 
Charnock  himself,  or  Keyes,  poor  devil !  You  could  not 
look  more  like  hanging!     What  is  it?  " 

I  muttered  that  I  was  not  well. 

"It  is  Keyes  I  am  sorry  for,"  continued  the  steward, 
who  was  taking  his  morning  draught,  "if  so  be  they  go 
to  the  end  with  him.  I  have  heard  of  a  master  given  up 
by  his  servant,  but  never  before  of  a  servant  hung  on  his 
master's  evidence — and  his  master  the  one  that  drew  him 
into  it!     Hang  Captain  Porter,  say  I!     A  fine  Captain!  " 

"  Oh,  they  will  let  the  j^oor  devil  live,"  said  another. 

"Keyes?" 

"Ay." 

"Not  they!"  said  Mr.  Martin  with  great  appearance 
of  wisdom.  "  He  was  in  the  Blues,  do  you  see,  my  man, 
and  if  it  spread  there  ?  No,  he  will  swing.  He  will 
swing  for  the  example.  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Price  ? 
You  are  in  there  with  my  lord,  and  should  know." 

But  I  muttered  something  and  escaped,  finding  soli- 
tude and  my  own  reflections  as  tolerable  as  their  gossip. 
A  little  later,  my  lord,  sending  for  me,  kept  me  close  at 
work  until  evening;  which  was  so  far  fortunate,  as  the 
em]oloyment,  by  diverting  my  thoughts,  helped  to  lift 
me  out  of  the  panic  into  which  I  had  fallen.  True,  the 
news  that  the  three  conspirators  were  found  guilty  and 
were  to  die  the  following  Monday,  exactly  as  Smith  had 
foretold,  threw  me  again  into  the  cold  fit,  and  heralded 
another  night  of  misery.  But  as  it  is  not  possible  for 
mortals  to  lie  long  under  the  same  peril  without  the  sense 


SHREWSBURY  293 

of  danger  losing  its  edge,  in  three  days  I  began  to  find  life 
bearable.  The  stateliness  of  the  household,  the  silence 
and  books  that  surrounded  me,  the  regular  hours  and 
steady  employment  soothed  my  nerves  j  and  Smith  mak- 
ing no  sign,  and  nothing  occurring  to  indicate  that  he 
meant  to  keep  his  word  or  summon  me  to  fulfil  mine,  I 
lulled  myself  into  the  belief  that  all  was  a  dream. 

Yet  I  was  very  far  from  being  happy:  to  be  that,  with 
such  apprehensions  as  never  quite  left  me,  was  beyond 
my  philosoi^hy.  And  I  had  rude  awakenings.  One  day 
it  was  the  execution  of  Charnock,  King,  and  Keyes  at 
Tyburn,  followed  by  the  hawking  of  their  last  dying 
speeches  and  confessions  in  the  streets,  that  jogged  me 
out  of  my  fancied  security,  and  sent  me  sick  and  white- 
faced  from  the  windows.  Another  it  was  the  sentence  on 
Sir  John  Friend  and  Sir  William  Perkins,  the  two  elderly 
citizens  whom  I  had  twice  seen  among  the  plotters,  and 
never  without  wondering  how  they  came  to  be  of  the 
gang.  A  little  later,  three  more  suffered,  and  again  the 
Square  rang  with  the  shrill  cries  of  the  chapmen  who 
peddled  their  last  sjieeches  from  door  to  door.  Against 
all  these  Captain  Porter  and  a  man  commonly  called 
"  Scum  Goodman,"  both  parficipes  criminis,  and  persons 
of  the  most  infamous  character,  bore  witness;  their  evi- 
dence being  corroborated  by  that  of  a  man  of  higher 
standing,  Mr.  Prendergast.  Whether  they  could  not 
prove  against  Cassel  and  Ferguson,  or  reasons  of  State 
intervened,  these,  with  several  of  their  fellows,  lay  in 
prison  untried  ;  a  course  which,  in  other  circumstances, 
might  have  involved  the  Government  in  obloquy.  But 
so  keen  at  this  time  was  the  general  feeling  against  the 
plotters,  and  so  high  the  King's  popularity  that  he  might 
have  shed  more  blood  had  he  chosen.  Here,  however, 
the  executions  stopped;  and  his  Majesty  showing  mercy 
if  not  indulgence,  the  hue  and  cry,  despite  the  popular 
indignation,  gradually  slackened  until  it  was  restricted  to 


294  SHREWSBURY 

Sir  John  Fenwick,  who  was  believed  to  be  still  in  hiding 
in  the  country,  and  on  whose  punishment  the  King  was 
reported  to  be  firmly  set. 

How  deej)ly  these  events  and  rumours,  which  formed 
the  staple  of  conversation  during  the  summer  of  '96, 
troubled  my  existence,  I  leave  to  the  imagination;  pro- 
vising  only  that  in  proportion  to  the  outward  quiet  of  my 
life  was  the  power  to  agitate  which  they  exerted. 

Moreover,  there  were  times  when  a  terror  more  sub- 
stantial trespassed  on  my  peace.  One  day  going  hastily 
into  the  hall  I  found  the  servants  all  peeping,  Mr.  Martin 
holding  open  the  door,  a  dozen  faces  staring  curiously  in 
from  the  sunshine  of  the  Square,  and  my  lord  standing, 
very  stiff,  on  the  threshold  of  his  room,  while  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  stood  a  scowling  man,  flashily  dressed. 

The  Duke  was  speaking  when  I  appeared.  "At  the 
office,  sir,"  I  heard  him  say.  "You  misunderstood  me. 
I  can  see  you  there  only. ' ' 

"  Your  Grace  is  hard  on  me,"  the  man  muttered  with 
a  glance  that  would  be  rebellious,  and  was  hang-dog.  "  I 
have  done  the  King  good  service,  and  this  is  the  way 
I  am  requited.     It  is  enough " 

"It  is  more  than  enough.  Captain  Porter,"  my  lord 
said,  quietly  taking  him  up.  "At  the  office,  if  you 
please.     This  house  is  for  my  friends." 

"  And  the  King's  friends  ?  They  may  shift  for  them- 
selves? "  the  wretch — who  even  then  wore  finery  bought 
with  blood — cried  bitterly. 

"  The  King  is  served  in  many  ways,"  my  lord  answered 
with  a  fine  air  of  contempt.  "Martin,  the  door!  And 
remember,  another  time  I  am  not  within  to  Captain 
Porter.     At  three  in  the  office,  sir,  if  you  please." 

The  man  slunk  away  at  that;  but  as  he  passed  through 
the  doorway,  I  heard  him  mutter  that  when  Sir  John 
Fen  wick  was  taken  he  would  see;  and  that  proud  as  some 
people  were  now,  they  might  be  glad  to  save  their  necks 


SHRE  WSB  UB  Y  295 

when  the  time  came.  He  iiassed  out  of  siglit  tlieu,  and 
hearing  my  lord  speak,  I  turned,  and  saw  Matthew  Smith, 
whom  I  had  not  before  noticed,  waiting  on  him  with  a 
letter.  The  Duke,  pausing  on  tlie  threshold  of  the 
library,  broke  the  seal,  and  ran  his  eye  over  the  paper. 

"I  will  send  an  answer,"  he  said,  "later  in  the  day. 
Or "  and  he  looked  np  quickly.  "Are  you  return- 
ing, sir  ?  " 

"  If  your  Grace  pleases." 

"  It  shall  be  ready  then  by  two  o'clock,"  my  lord  an- 
swered stiffly.     "  Good-morning." 

"  Good-morning,  your  Grace." 

And  my  lord  went  in.  The  colloquy  had  been  of  the 
slightest;  but  I  had  noted  that  my  patron's  tone,  when 
he  spoke  to  Smith,  was  guarded  and  civil,  if  distant,  and 
that  through  the  few  formal  words  they  had  exchanged 
peered  a  sort  of  understanding.  This  shook  me;  and 
when  Smith  turned  to  me,  a  faint  sneer  on  his  lips,  and 
told  me  that  I  was  a  bold  man,  my  heart  was  water.  He 
was  at  home  here  as  everywhere;  what  could  I  do  against 
him? 

"  Do  you  understand,  Mr.  Price  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  Or 
are  you  a  bigger  fool  than  I  take  you  for  ?  " 

"Why?"  I  stammered. 

"Why?  Why,  to  push  in  on  Porter  after  that  fash- 
ion," he  muttered  under  his  breath — for  Martin  was 
making  towards  us.  "  Lucky  he  did  not  recognize  you 
and  denounce  you !  For  a  groat  he  would  do  it — or  to 
spite  the  Duke!  Take  care,  man,"  he  continued  seri- 
ously, "  if  you  do  not  want  to  join  Charnock,  whose  head 
is  in  airy  quarters  to-night." 

This  left  me  the  prey  of  a  new  terror;  for  remember- 
ing that  I  had  once  seen  Porter  at  Ferguson's  lodging, 
I  could  not  shut  my  eyes  to  the  reasonableness  of  the 
warning.  I  saw  myself  beset  by  dangers  on  that  side 
also,   went  for  a  time  on  eggs,  and   trembled  at  every 


296  SHREWSBURY 

soiiud;  indeed,  for  a  full  fortnight  I  never  passed  the 
threshold — excusing  myself  on  the  ground  of  vertigo,  if 
ordered  to  go  on  errands.  In  the  course  of  that  fort- 
night I  had  a  thousand  opjiortunities  of  contrasting  the 
quiet  in  which  I  lived,  behind  the  dull  windows  of  the 
great  house,  with  the  dangers  into  which  I  might  at  any 
moment  be  flung;  and  if  any  man  ever  repented  of  any- 
thing, I  repented  of  my  lack  of  candour  respecting 
Smith.  From  time  to  time  I  saw  him  pass — grim,  re- 
served, a  walking  menace.  When  he  looked  up  at  the 
windows,  I  read  mastery  and  a  secret  knowledge  in  his 
eye;  while  the  way  in  which  he  went  and  came,  free  and 
unquestioned,  was  itself  a  monition;  was  it  to  be  won- 
dered that  I  feared  this  man,  who,  while  Charnock's  head 
mouldered  on  a  spike  on  Temple  Bar,  and  Friend  and 
Perkins  passed  to  the  gallows,  walked  the  Strand,  and 
lounged  in  the  Mall,  as  safe  in  ajipearance  as  my  lord 
himself  ? 

I  knew  that  at  any  moment  he  might  call  upon  me  to 
fulfil  my  word.  Whether  in  that  case,  the  demand  being 
such  as  to  allow  me  leisure  to  forecast  the  consequences, 
I  should  have  complied,  or  taking  my  courage  in  my 
hands,  have  thrown  myself  on  my  lord's  indulgence,  I 
cannot  now  say;  for  in  the  issue  a  sudden  and  unforeseen 
shifting  of  scene  prevented  my  calculations,  and  hurried 
me  onwards,  whether  I  would  or  no. 

It  happened,  I  have  said,  suddenly.  One  afternoon 
there  came  a  great  bustle  in  the  Square;  and  who  should 
it  be  but  the  Countess,  my  lord's  mother,  come  to  visit 
him  in  her  coach-and-six,  with  such  a  paraphernalia  of 
gentlewomen  and  negro  pages,  outriders,  and  running 
footmen,  as  drew  together  all  the  ragamuffins  from  the 
mews,  and  fairly  brought  back  King  Charles's  days.  As 
the  great  coach,  which  held  six  inside,  swung  and  lum- 
bered to  a  stand  at  the  door,  I  saw  a  painted  face,  with 
bold  black  eyes,  glaring  from  the  window,  cheek  by  jowl 


SHREWSBURY  297 

with  a  parrot  and  three  or  four  spauiels;  and  I  waited  to 
see  little  more,  a  single  glance  sufficing  to  certify  me  that 
this  was  the  same  lady  to  whose  house  Smith  had  taken 
me.  Smith  was  in  attendance  on  her,  and  a  gentleman 
in  a  plain  black  suit  and  wig — who  was  a  Papist  priest  if 
I  ever  saw  one — and  Monterey,  and  two  or  three  other 
gentlewomen;  and,  as  I  had  no  mind  to  be  recognised  by 
these,. or  for  that  matter,  by  their  mistress,  I  made  haste 
to  retire  behind  tlie  flock  of  servants  whom  Martin  had 
marshalled  in  the  hall  to  do  the  honours. 

My  lord  went  out  to  the  coach  and  brought  the  Count- 
ess in,  with  a  great  show  of  reverence;  and  for  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  they  were  closeted  together  in  his 
room.  I  took  advantage  of  this  to  retire  upstairs,  and 
had  been  wiser  had  I  stayed  there,  or  better  still,  slipped 
out  at  the  back.  But  a  craving  came  on  me  to  see  Mon- 
terey again,  and  with  the  knowledge  I  now  had,  ascertain 
if  she  really  was  my  old  mistress.  This  drew  me  to  the 
hall  again,  where,  the  crowd  being  great,  and  the  ser- 
vants taken  up  with  teasing  the  Countess's  parrot  and 
blackamoors,  I  managed  to  avoid  observation,  and  at  the 
same  time  see  what  I  wanted.  The  woman  who  had 
once  been  all  the  world  to  me — and  of  whom  I  could  not 
now  think  withoiit  a  tender  regret,  directed,  not  to  her, 
but  to  the  state  of  blissful,  dawning  passion,  of  which  she 
had  been  the  cause,  and  whereof  no  man  is  twice  capable 
— was  still  handsome  in  a  coarse  fashion,  and  when  seen 
at  a  distance.  I  could  not  deny  that.  But  if  I  desired 
revenge,  I  had  it;  for  not  only  was  her  complexion  gone, 
so  that  her  good  looks  vanished  when  the  viewer  ap- 
proached, but  her  lips  had  grown  thin,  and  her  face  hard, 
with  the  indescribable  hardness  which  sjieaks  of  past  sin 
long  grown  bitter — and  an  hourly,  daily  recognition  that 
the  wage  of  sin  is  death. 

Presently,  while  Mr.  ]\Iartin  was  pressing  his  civilities 
on  her,  and  I,  from  a  corner  near  the  door  through  which 


298  SHREWSBURY 

I  had  let  Mary  escape,  was  curiously  reading  her  counte- 
nance, the  door  of  my  lord's  room  opened,  and  the 
Countess  came  out,  supported  on  the  one  side  by  the 
Duke's  arm,  on  the  other  by  her  great  ebony  cane.  The 
servants  hurried  to  form  two  lines;  and  I  suppose  curios- 
ity led  me  to  press  nearer  than  was  prudent,  or  her  eyes 
were  of  i^eculiar  sharj^ness;  or  perhaps  she  looked  for  me, 
and  had  I  not  been  there  would  have  called  for  me.  At 
any  rate,  she  had  not  moved  three  steps  towards  her  coach 
before  her  gaze,  roving  along  the  line  of  servants,  alighted 
on  me;  and  she  stood. 

"I'll  have  that  rascal!"  she  cried  in  her  high,  shrill 
voice — and  she  pointed  at  me  with  her  cane,  and  stood. 
"He  looks  as  if  butter  would  not  melt  in  his  mouth, 
but  if  he  is  not  a  lad  of  wax,  call  me  a  street  slut!  Hark 
you,  my  man;  you  come  with  me.  Bid  him,  Shrews- 
bury! " 

My  lord,  his  face  flushing,  spoke  low,  and  seemed  to 
make  demur;  but  she  persisted. 

"  Odd's  life;  you  make  me  sick!  "  she  cried  irritably. 
"You  will  not  this,  and  you  fancy  that!  The  ser- 
vants      Go  to  for  a  fool!     In  my  time  master  was 

master,  and  if  any  blabbed,  man  or  maid,  it  was  strip 
and  whip!  But  now — do  you  quarrel  with  me,  or  do 
you  not  ?  ' ' 

The  Duke  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  smiled  un- 
easily. "Times  are  somewhat  changed,  madam,"  he 
said. 

"Ay,  by  our  lord,  they  are/'  she  cried,  swearing 
roundly.  "  And  why  ?  Because  there  are  no  men  nowa- 
days, but  mealy-mouthed  Josephs,  like  that  trembler 
yonder,  whose  heart  is  in  his  boots  because  I  want  him 
carry  a  message."  And  she  pointed  to  me  with  her  long 
cane,  while  her  head  quivered  with  excitement  and  age. 
"Sort  him  out;  sort  him  out  and  send  him  with  me; 
or  we  quarrel,  my  lord." 


SHREWSBURY  299 

"Well,  madam,  your  will  is  law  in  this  house,"  the 
Duke  said;  "but " 

"  But  no  lies!  "  she  cried.     ''  D'ye  send  him." 

My  lord  bowed  reluctantly.  ''Go,"  he  said,  looking 
at  me. 

"And  bid  him  do  as  I  tell  him,"  she  cried  sharply. 
"  But  he  had  better,  or Still,  tell  him,  tell  him." 

"  Price,"  my  lord  said  soberly,  "  the  Countess  is  good 
enough  to  wish  you  to  do  an  errand  for  her.  Be  good 
enough  to  consider  yourself  at  her  disposal,  and  go  with 
the  coach  now.  Be  easy,"  he  continued,  nodding  pleas- 
antly— it  was  impossible  for  me  to  hide  my  apprehen- 
sions— '•'  her  ladyship  needs  you  for  a  week  only." 

"  Ay,  sure!  "  she  cried.  "  After  that  he  may  go  to  the 
devil  for  me! " 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

Rightly  has  the  Latin  poet  sung  of  the  dura  ilia  of 
the  Fates,  who  either  resistless  rout  all  human  resolu- 
tions, or,  where  the  mind  has  been  hardened  to  meet  the 
attack,  turn  the  poor  wretch's  Hank,  and  lo!  while  he 
squares  his  shield,  and  shortens  his  spear  to  meet  the 
occasion,  habet — he  has  it  under  the  fifth  rib. 

So  it  was  with  me.  AVhile  I  dreamed  of  resistance, 
and  would  harden  my  heart  and  set  fast  my  feet,  fate 
cross-buttocked  me;  and  I  fell,  not  knowing.  The 
Countess's  coach  bore  me  away,  unresisting;  and  Smith, 
whom  I  hated  as  I  never  hated  even  Ferguson,  gave  me 
the  word.  From  my  plain  clothes,  to  the  long  curled 
peruke,  the  cravat,  ruffles,  and  fine  suit  in  which  I  had 
once  before  paraded  myself,  was  but  a  step;  I  took  it 
perforce,  and  being  conducted,  when  I  was  ready,  into 
the  Countess's  chamber,  to  wait  her  pleasure,  could  have 


300  SHREWSBURY 

fancied  the  last  six  months  a  dream — could  have  fancied 
the  conspirators  still  at  work,  Captain  Barclay  still  pac- 
ing the  Piazza,  my  lord  still  a  stranger  to  me,  the  library 
a  vision ;  in  a  word,  I  could  have  fancied  all  those  events, 
which  had  filled  half  a  year,  to  be  no  more  than  creatures  of 
the  imagination,  so  unchanged  was  the  great  silent  room, 
where  my  lady,  while  I  waited,  played  piquet  with  Mon- 
terey, amid  the  gorgeousness  of  her  rose-and-silver  suite. 

The  monkey  gibbered  as  of  old,  and  the  parrot  vied 
with  the  broidered  parrots  on  the  wall;  and  now,  as  then, 
the  air  was  heavy  with  scent  and  musk,  Avhile  the  light, 
cunningly  arranged,  fell  on  the  part  where  the  Countess 
sat,  now  grumbling  and  now  swearing,  or  now,  while  the 
cards  were  dealing,  thumping  the  floor  impatiently  with 
her  stick.  She  had  so  perfectly  the  grand  air  of  a  past 
generation,  that  when  her  eye  turned  in  my  direction  I 
trembled,  and  thought  no  more  of  resistance;  yet  when 
she  resumed  the  game,  she  gradually — and  more  and 
more  completely,  as  I  watched — sank  into  a  querulous, 
feeble,  fierce  okl  woman,  wliose  passion,  where  it  did  not 
terrify,  moved  to  derision,  and  whose  fads  and  fancies,  as 
patent  as  the  day,  placed  her  at  the  mercy  of  all  who 
cared  to  flatter  or  cozen  her. 

Madame  was  about  it  now;  letting  her  win,  and  agaiii 
gaining  a  slight  advantage;  mingling  hints  at  old  vani- 
ties and  conquests  (whereat  my  lady  grew  garrulous)  with 
new  scandals,  coarse  and  spiteful;  whining  a  little  when 
my  lady,  in  a  fury  caused  by  a  bad  hand,  struck  her 
across  the  face  with  a  fan  to  teach  her  to  be  awkward, 
but  cheering  up  at  once  when  the  Countess's  mood 
changed  with  the  cards.  In  a  word,  as  she  had  betrayed 
me  young,  she  cozened  my  lady  old;  but  seeing  her  fea- 
tures grown  hard  with  time,  and  her  eyes  grown  lifeless, 
and  the  devil  grinning  more  plainly  from  behind  the 
mask,  that  once  had  been  so  fair,  it  was  a  wonder  to  me 
that  even  the  Countess  was  deceived. 


SHREWSBURY  301 

Presently  my  lady  threw  down  lier  cards  in  a  rage, 
and  calling  her  opponent  a  cheating  slut,  proceeded  to 
turn  her  anger  on  me. 

"What  is  the  gaby  doing,  standing  there  like  a 
gawk  ?  "  she  shrieked.  "  Why  is  he  not  about  his  busi- 
ness? " 

Monterey  whispered  her  that  I  had  not  had  my  instruc- 

tiOQS.. 

"  Then  give  them,  and  let  him  go !  "  she  cried.  "  Where 
is  the  ring  ?  Here,  you  daw  in  peacock's  feathers — like 
my  son,  indeed  ?  About  as  like  as  that  squinting  vixen 
Villiers  is  to  a  beauty!  Take  that,  and  ride  with  Matthew 
Smith,  and  give  it  to  the  gentleman  you  will  meet  at  the 
inn  at  Ashford,  and  say — Monterey,  tell  him  what  to 
say." 

"  Say,  '  Colonel  Talbot  sends  this  ring,  and  his  service.' 
And  if  the  gentleman  asks  *"  Whither? '  or  this,  or  that, 
to  whatever  he  asks,  answer  thus :  '  I  am  not  here.  Sir 
John,  to  answer  questions.  Favour  me  by  conveying 
that  ring  and  my  services  whither  you  are  going.  I  do 
not  talk,  but  when  the  time  comes  I  shall  act.'  " 

^^  C'est  tout!''''  said  the  Countess,  nodding  aj)proval. 
"  If  you  are  not  man  enough  to  repeat  that,  whij)  you 
for  a  noodle!     Say  it,  man." 

But  when  I  went  to  say  it,  first  T  could  not  remember 
it,  and  broke  down;  and  then  when,  my  lady  storming  at 
me  for  a  fool  and  an  imbecile,  I  had  got  the  sentences 
into  my  head,  I  but  whimpered  them,  bringing  no  heart 
to  the  task.  My  lady,  when  she  saw  that,  flew  out  at  me 
afresh,  and  threw  first  the  vapours  bottle  and  then  her 
cane  at  me,  which,  breaking  a  piece  of  china,  put  her 
fairly  beside  herself.  "  Come  here!  "  she  shrieked,  sway- 
ing to  and  fro  in  her  chair.  "  Do  you  hear,  you  puling, 
psalm-singing  canter?  Come  here,  I  say!  "  And  when, 
trembling  and  scared,  I  had  approached,  she  leant  for- 
ward, and  seizing  hold  of  my  ear,  as  Ferguson  had  once 


302  SHREWSBURY  „ 

seized  it,  slie  twisted  it  with  such  unexpected  strength 
and  spite  that  I  roared  with  pain,  and  fairly  fell  ou  my 
knees  beside  her. 

"There  is  for  jow,  gros  cochon !'''' she  cried.  "So 
you  ca7i  speak  up  when  you  like!  Now  go  to  the  end  of 
the  room,  my  man,  and  play  your  part  again,  and  play 

it  better!      Or,  by ,  I  will  have  up  those  who  shall 

lash  your  back  to  the  bone.  Hoity  toity !  These  are  fine 
times,  when  scum  like  you,  my  lad,  put  on  airs!  " 

This  was  not  the  discipline,  nor  were  these  the  threats, 
to  give  an  actor  courage;  but  in  sheer  desperation,  I  spoke 
up,  and,  this  time,  had  the  good  fortune  to  please  her; 
and,  Monterey  mocking  me,  and  pushing  me  this  way 
and  that,  I  went  through  my  part  a  dozen  times.  At 
length  the  Countess  expressed  herself  satisfied,  and  with 
a  grim  nod,  and  an  "  Odds  my  life,  he  is  not  so  unlike, 
after  all!  "  gave  me  leave  to  go.  But  when  I  was  half 
way  to  the  door,  she  called  me  back,  and  after  I  had  tim- 
idly obeyed,  she  sat  awhile,  glowering  at  me  in  silence. 
At  last,  "  No,"  she  said  irritably,  "it  is  too  late!  "  and 
she  struck  on  the  floor  with  her  stick.  "  It  is  too  late  to 
turn  back!  The  cross  devil  did  nothing  bat  thwart  me 
to-day,  and  what  he  will  not  do  ban  gre,  he  shall  do  per- 
force. He  has  brought  it  on  himself,  and  he  must  abide 
his  destin  !     Yet — Monterey!  " 

The  woman  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment.  "  Yes, 
madam!  " 

"  I  suppose  that  there  is  no  danger  of  a  contretemps,'''' 
she  said,  stirring  restlessly  in  her  chair.  "  Sir  John  will 
get  away  ?  They  will  not  take  him,  and  find  the  ring  on 
him — and  learn  whose  it  is  ?  " 

On  that,  if  I  had  been  quick,  and  had  had  both  wits 
and  courage  at  command,  I  should  have  thrown  myself  at 
her  feet;  and  so  I  might  have  opened  her  eyes.  But  I 
wavered,  and  before  I  had  found  heart  to  do  it,  the  wait- 
ing-woman, smooth  and  watchful,  was  in  the  breach. 


SHREWSBURY  303 

"  Asliford,  my  lady,  is  only  three  hours'  riding  from 
Dymchurch  in  the  Marsh,"  she  said,  "where  the  boat 
waits  for  him  to-morrow  night.  Sir  John  is  well 
mounted,  and  it  will  be  odd,  if,  after  baffling  pursuit 
for  months,  he  should  be  taken  in  that  time." 

"Yes,  yes!"  my  lady  said  querulously.  "Let  him 
go !  Let  him  go !  Though  you  are  a  fool  to  boot.  A 
man  is  taken  or  not  taken  in  less  than  three  hours.  Even 
now,  if  that  contrary  devil  of  a  son  of  mine  had  not 
argued  with  me,  and  argued  with  me  to-day — but,  let 
him  go!     Let  him  go!" 

The  woman  lost  no  time  in  taking  her  at  her  word, 
and  hurrying  me  out;  not  by  the  main  entrance  through 
which  I  had  come  in,  but  by  the  little  side  door,  leading 
to  the  dingy  closet  at  the  head  of  the  private  staircase. 
In  the  closet  a  bright,  unshaded  lamp  burned  on  the 
dusty  table,  and  beside  it  stood  Matthew  Smith,  wearing 
a  cloak,  riding-boots,  and  a  great  flapped  hat.  He  looked 
eagerly  at  the  woman,  his  eyes  shining  in  the  glare  of  the 
lamp;  but  he  did  not  speak  until  she  had  closed  the  door 
behind  her.     Then,  "  Is  it  right?  "  he  whispered. 

She  nodded. 

"  You  have  got  the  ring  ?  " 

She  gave  it  to  him  with  a  smile  of  triumph. 

He  looked  at  it,  and  with  a  grim  face  slipped  it  into 
his  pocket.  "Good,"  he  said,  "and  now,  my  friend, 
the  sooner  we  are  away,  the  better." 

But  my  gorge  rose.  On  the  table  beside  him,  in  the 
full  glare  of  the  lamp,  lay  a  cloak  and  holsters,  a  mask, 
sword,  and  riding-whij).  I  knew  what  these  objects 
meant,  and  for  whom  they  were  prejiared;  and  at  the 
prospect  of  the  plunge  into  the  dark  night,  of  the  jour- 
ney, and  the  perils  of  the  unknown  road,  I  cried  out 
that  I  would  not  go!  I  would  not  go!  And  I  tried  to 
force  my  way  back  into  the  Countess's  room — with  what 
intention  heaven  knows. 


304 


SnEEWSBURY 


But  Smith  whipped  between  me  and  the  door.  "  You 
fool!  "  he  said,  pushing  me  back.  "  Are  you  mad  ?  Or 
don't  you  know  me  yet  ?  " 

"I  know  you  too  well!"  I  cried,  beside  myself  with 


Y  A,','j 


SHE  CAME  A  STEP  NEARER  TO  ME,  AND  PEERED  AT  ME 

rage,  and  with  apprehensions  of  the  plunge  on  the  brink 
of  which  I  stood.  '"  You  have  cursed  me  from  the  first 
day  I  saw  you  at  Ware!  You  have  been  the  curse  of 
my  life!     You,  and  that  Jezebel!  " 


SHREWSBURY  ■  305 

"Are  yon  mad?"  lie  said  again;  and  threatened  me 
with  his  hand. 

But  she  came  a  step  nearer  to  me,  and  peered  at  me; 
and  after  one  look  took  the  lamp  from  the  table  and  held 
it  to  my  face.  "  At  Ware  ?  "  she  said.  "  At  Ware  ?  " 
And  then,  putting  the  lamp  back  on  the  table,  she  fell 
to  laughing.  "  He  is  right!  "  she  said.  "I  know  him 
now.   -  But  you  told  me  that  his  name  was  Taylor." 

"  Taylor  ?  "  he  said  wrathful ly.  "  So  it  is;  and  Price, 
and  half  a  dozen  other  names,  for  all  I  know.  What 
does  it  matter  what  his  name  is  ?  " 

"Oh,  it  matters  very  much,"  she  said,  affecting  to 
ogle  me  iu  an  exaggerated  fashion.  "  He  is  an  old  flame 
of  mine.  His  face  always  brought  something  to  my  mind 
— but  I  thought  that  it  was  his  likeness  to  the  Duke." 

He  cursed  her  old  flames,  and  the  Duke.  And  then, 
"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  he  said.     "  Who  is  he '?  " 

"He  is  the  lad  we  left  at  AVare — in  the  old  woman's 
room,"  she  answered,  her  voice  sinking,  and  growing 
almost  soft.  "  Lord!  it  seems  so  loug  ago,  it  miglit  have 
happened  in  another  life!  You  remember  him.  Matt? 
You  saw  him  with  me  at  The  Eose  one  night?  The 
first  night  I  saw  you  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me,  long  and  strangely.  "And  what 
does  it  mean?  "  he  said  at  last,  scowling  between  wonder 
and  suspicion. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Sais  pas  f ''"'  she  an- 
swered.    "  Ask  him!  " 

"You  ruined  me  once!"  I  cried.  "And  he  saved 
me!  And  now  you  would  have  me  ruin  him.  You  are 
devils,  you  are!     Devils!     But  I  defy  you!  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  continued  to  stare  at  me;  as  if 
he  discerned  or  suspected  that  there  was  more  in  this  than 
appeared  on  the  surface.  At  length  the  woman  laughed, 
and  he  turned  to  her,  rage  in  his  face.  "I  see  nothing 
to  laugh  at,"  he  said. 

30 


306  SHREWSBURY 

"But  I  do!"  she  answered  pertly.  "You  three  all 
mixed  up!     It  would  make  a  cat  laugh^  my  lad." 

He  cursed  her.  "Have  done  with  that!"  he  said 
fiercely.     "  And  say,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Done?  "  she  answered  briskly,  and  in  a  tone  of  gen- 
uine surprise.  "  Why,  that  which  was  to  be  done. 
What  difference  does  this  make  ?  " 

But  he  looked  at  her,  pondering  darkly,  as  if  it  did 
make  a  difference.  I  sujjpose  that  somewhere,  deep  down 
in  his  nature,  there  lurked  a  grain  of  superstition,  which 
found  in  this  singular  coincidence,  this  sudden  stringing 
together  of  persons  long  parted,  an  evil  omen.  Or  it 
may  be  that  he  had  still  some  scrap  of  conscience  left, 
that,  seared  and  deadened  as  it  was,  stirred  and  started 
at  this  strange  upheaval  of  an  old  crime.  At  any  rate, 
"I  don't  know,"  he  growled  at  last.  "I  don't  like  it, 
and  that  is  flat.     There  is  some  jJractice  in  this." 

"  There  is  a  fool  in  it,"  she  answered  naively.  "  And 
there  are  like  to  be  two!  " 

I  thought  to  back  him  up,  and  I  braced  myself  against 
the  wall,  to  which  I  had  retired.  "  I  won't  go!  "  I  said 
doggedly.     ' '  I  will  call  for  help  in  the  streets,  first !  ' ' 

"You  will  do  as  you  are  told,"  she  answered  coolly. 
"And  you,"  she  continued  to  Smith  in  a  voice  of  sting- 
ing scorn,  "  are  you  going  to  give  it  up  now,  when  all  is 
safe  ?  AVill  you  stand  to  my  lord  as  this  poor  silly  fellow 
stands  to  you  ?  Have  you  waited  for  years  for  your  re- 
venge— to  move  aside  now  ?  Why,  my  G — d  !  the  Duke 
is  worth  ten  of  you.  He  is  a  man,  at  any  rate.  He 
is " 

"Peace,  girl,"  he  cried,  with  I  know  not  what  of 
menace  in  his  tone. 

"  Then,  will  you  go  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  will  go!"  he  answered  between  his  teeth. 
"  But  by  heaven,  you  slut,  if  ill  comes  of  it,  I  will  Avring 
your  neck!    I  will,  so  help  me  heaven!    You  shall  deceive 


SHREWSBURY  307 

no  other  man !     If  there  is  practice  of  yours  in  this,  if 
this  tool  is  here  by  your  connivance " 

"He  is  not!  "  she  answered.     "  Be  satisfied." 

Apparently  he  was  satisfied,  for  he  drew  a  deep  breath, 
and  stood  silent.  She  turned  to  me.  "  Get  ready,"  she 
said  sharply. 

"No,"  I  muttered,  summoning  all  my  resolution. 
"  I  shall  not  go.     I — I  have  not " 

Smith  turned  to  me,  and  the  refusal  died  on  my  lips. 
The  struggle  with  the  woman  had  roused  the  man's  pas- 
sions; and  I  read  in  his  eyes  such  a  glare  of  ferocity  as 
chilled  my  blood  and  unstrung  my  knees.  Nor  was  that 
all;  for  when  I  went,  trembling,  to  take  the  cloak,  "  One 
moment,"  he  said  grimly,  "  not  so  fast,  my  friend.  Let 
us  understand  one  another  before  Ave  start.  Mr.  Price  or 
Mr.  Taylor  or  whatever  your  name  is,  take  note,  do  you 
hear  me,  of  three  things  ?  One,  that  the  business  we  are 
on  is  life  or  death.     Do  you  grasp  that?  " 

I  muttered  a  shuddering  assent. 

"Secondly,"  he  continued,  with  the  same  gruesome 
civility,  "my  hand  will  never  be  more  than  six  inches 
from  the  butt  of  a  pistol,  until  I  see  this  home  again. 
Do  you  grasp  that  ?  " 

I  nodded. 

"  Thirdly,  at  the  least  sign  of  treachery  or  disobedience 
on  your  part,  I  blow  out  your  brains  first,  and  my  own 
afterwards,  if  that  be  necessary.     Do  you  grasp  that?  " 

I  nodded. 

"  That  is  especially  well,"  he  said.  "  Because  the  last 
item  is  important  to  you.  On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Price, 
play  honest  John  with  me,  and  in  forty-eight  hours  you 
shall  be  back  in  your  master's  house,  free  and  safe;  and 
I  shall  trouble  you  no  more.  Do  you  understand 
that?" 

I  said  I  did;  my  teeth  chattering,  and  my  eyes  seeking 
to  evade  his. 


308  SHREWSBURY 

"Then,  now,  yon  may  get  into  those  things,-'  he  said. 
"  And  do  you  ride  when  I  bid  yon,  and  halt  when  I  bid 
you,  and  speak  when  I  say  speak,  and  be  silent  when  I 
say  be  silent — do  those  four  things,  I  say,  and  you  will  die 
in  your  bed.     They  are  all  I  ask." 

I  stooped,  shaking  all  over,  to  take  up  the  boots. 
"  Heart  up,  pretty!  "  cried  the  woman,  with  an  odd  laugh 
that  broke  off  short  with  a  sort  of  quaver.  "It  is  clear 
that  you  are  not  born  to  be  hanged.    And  for  the  rest ' ' 

"  Peace,  peace,  wench,"  said  Smith  impatiently.  "  And 
dress  him." 


CHAPTEE   XXXVI 

It  wanted  two  hours  of  midnight  on  a  fine  night  when 
we  two  rode  over  London  Bridge,  and  through  a  gap  in 
the  houses  saw  the  river  flowing  below,  a  ripple  of  silver 
framed  in  blackness,  and  so  cold  to  the  eye  that  involun- 
tarily I  shivered ;  feeling  a  return  of  all  the  vague  fears 
and  apprehensions  which,  originally  awakened  by  the 
prospect  of  the  journey,  had  been  set  at  rest  for  the  time 
by  the  awe  in  which  I  held  my  companion.  I  began  to 
recall  a  dozen  stories  of  footpads  and  highwaymen,  out- 
rage and  robbery,  which  I  had  read,  and  found  but  cold 
comfort  in  the  reflection  that  the  Kent  Eoad,  from  the 
amount  of  traffic  that  used  it,  was  accounted  one  of  the 
safest  in  England.  It  was  not  wonderful,  that  with 
nerves  so  disordered,  I  went  in  front  of  danger;  or  that 
■^];ien — opposite  the  Marshalsea,  where  the  chain  crosses 
the  road,  near  the  entrance  to  White  Horse  Yard— a  man 
came  suddenly  out  of  a  passage  and  caught  hold  of  my 
companion's  rein,  I  cried  out,  and  all  but  turned  my 
horse  to  fly. 

Smith  himself  appeared  to  be  taken  off  his  guard;  for. 


SHREWSBURY  309 

after  bidding  me  beware  what  I  did,  he  called  with  the 
same  harshness  to  the  man  to  release  the  rein,  or  take 
the  conseqnences. 

"Oh,  I  am  all  right,"  the  fellow  answered  roughly, 
peering  at  him  through  the  darkness.  "  You  are  Mr. 
Smith?" 

"Well?" 

"Fairholt  sent  me — to  stoji  you," 

"Fairholt!" 

"  Ay,  he  is  here." 

"  Here?  "  my  companion  cried,  in  a  tone  of  rage  and 

surprise.     "What  the !      Why,  he  should  be — you 

know  where,  by  this  time!  " 

"  Ay,  but  his  horse  threw  him  this  morning,  and  he  is 
lying  at  the  Wliite  Horse  here,  with  a  broken  leg!  " 

Smith  cursed  the  absent  man  for  a  fool.  "I  wish  he 
had  broken  his  neck !  "  he  said  savagely.  And  then,  after 
an  interval,  "  Has  he  sent  anybody  ?  " 

"  He  has  had  something  else  to  think  about,"  the  man 
answered  drily.  "  And  so  would  vou,  master,  with  his 
leg!" 

Smith  swore  again,  and  sat  gloomily  silent. 

"  He  says  if  you  can  stead  it  ofi  for  twenty-four  hours," 
the  man  continued,  "  he  will  arrange  that " 

"No  names,"  Smith  cried  sharply,  interru^iting  him. 

"Well,  that — someone  shall  take  his  place  and  do  the 
job." 

Smith  did  not  answer  for  a  time,  but  at  length  in  a 
curt,  incisive  tone,  "Tell  him,  yes,"  he  said.  "I  will 
see  to  it.  And  you — keep  a  still  tongue,  will  you  ?  You 
were  going  with  him,  I  sujipose  ?  " 

"Ay." 

''  And  you  will  come  with  the  other?  " 

"  May  be.     And  if  not  I  shall  not  blab." 

Smith  by  a  nod  showed  that  the  man  had  taken  his 
meaning;    after    whicli,    bidding    him    good-night,    he 


310  SHREWSBURY 

pricked  up  his  horse.  "  Come  on,"  he  said,  addressing 
me  with  impatience.  "I  thought  to  have  had  compan- 
ions, and  so  ridden  more  secure!}'.  But  we  must  make 
the  best  of  it." 

Heaven  knows  that  I  too  would  have  liked  comjianions, 
and  took  the  road  again  dolefully  enough.  Nor  was  that 
the  worst  of  it;  Smith,  in  speaking  to  the  stranger,  had 
mentioned  Fairliolt.  Now,  I  knew  the  name,  and  knew 
the  man  to  be  one  of  the  messengers  attached  to  the 
Secretary's  office,  one  whose  business  it  was  to  execute 
warrants  and  arrest  political  prisoners.  But  what  had 
Smith,  riding  to  a  secret  interview  with  a  man  outlawed 
and  in  hiding,  to  do  with  messengers  ?     With  Fairholt  ? 

And  then,  as  if  this  were  not  enough  to  disturb  me 
with  a  view  of  treachery,  black  as  gulf  seen  by  traveller 
through  a  rift  in  the  mist — if  this  glimpse,  I  say,  were 
not  enough,  how  was  I  going  to  reconcile  Smith's  state- 
ment that  he  had  expected  companions  with  his  first  cry, 
uttered  in  wrath  and  surprise — that  Fairholt  ought  to  be 
by  this  time — well,  at  some  distant  point  ? 

In  fine,  I  Avas  so  far  from  being  persuaded  that  Smith 
had  expected  company,  that  I  gravely  suspected  that  he 
had  made  quite  other  arrangements;  arrangements  of  the 
most  perfidious  character.  And  as  the  horses'  hoofs 
rang  monotonously  on  the  hard  road,  and  we  rose  and 
fell  in  the  saddle,  and  I  peered  forward  into  the  gloom, 
fearing  all  things  and  doubting  all  things,  for  certain  I 
feared  and  doubted  nothing  so  much  as  I  did  the  dark 
and  secret  man  beside  me;  whose  scheming  brain,  spin- 
ning jDlot  within  plot,  each  darker  and  more  involved  than 
the  other,  kept  all  my  ingenuity  at  a  stretch  to  overtake 
the  final  end  and  jiurpose  he  had  at  heart. 

Indeed,  I  desj)air  of  conveying  to  others  how  gravely 
this  sombre  companionshiii  and  more  sombre  uncertainty 
aggravated  the  terrors  of  a  journey,  that  at  the  best  of 
times  must  have  been  little  to  my  taste.     To  the  common 


SHREWSBURY  311 

risks  of  the  road,  deserted  at  that  hour  by  all  save  cut- 
purses  and  rogues,  was  added  a  suspicion,  as  much  more 
harassing  than  these,  as  unseen  dangers  ever  surpass  the 
known.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  strove  to  divert  my  mind 
from  the  figure  by  my  side ;  neither  the  bleak  heath  above 
Greenwich — whence  we  looked  back  at  the  reddish  haze 
that  canopied  London,  and  forward  to  where  the  Thames 
marshes  stretched  eastward  under  night — nor  the  gib- 
bet on  Dartford  Brent,  where  a  body  hung  in  chains, 
poisoning  the  air,  nor  the  light  that  shone  dim  and  soli- 
tary, far  to  the  left,  across  the  river,  and  puzzled  me 
until  he  told  me  that  it  was  Tilbury — neither  of  tliese 
things,  I  say,  though  they  occupied  my  thoughts  by 
turns  and  for  a  moment,  had  power  to  drive  him  from 
my  mind,  or  divert  my  fears  to  dangers  more  apparent. 
And  in  this  mood,  now  glancing  askance  at  him,  and 
now  moving  uneasily  under  his  gaze,  I  might  have  ridden 
to  Kochester  if  my  ear  had  not  caught — I  think  when  we 
were  two  or  three  miles  short  of  the  city — the  sound  of 
a  horse  trotting  fast  on  the  road  behind  us. 

At  first  it  followed  so  faintly  on  the  breeze  that  I 
doubted,  thinking  it  might  be  either  the  echo  of  our 
hoofs,  or  a  pulse  beating  in  my  ears.  Then,  on  a  hard 
piece  of  ground,  it  declared  itself  unmistakably;  and 
again  as  suddenly  it  died  away. 

At  that  I  spoke  involuntarily.  "  He  has  stopped," 
I  said. 

Smith  laughed  in  his  teeth.  "He  is  crossing  the  wet 
bottom,  fool — by  the  creek,"  he  said. 

And  before  I  could  answer  him  the  dull  sound  of  a 
horse  galloping  fast,  but  moving  on  the  turf  that  ran 
alongside  the  road,  proved  him  to  be  right.  "Draw 
up!  "  he  Avhispered  in  something  of  a  hurry,  and  then, 
as  I  hesitated,  "Do  you  hear?"  he  continued,  sharply 
seizing  my  rein.  "What  do  you  fear?  Do  you  think 
that  night  birds  prey  on  night  birds  ?  " 


312  SHREWSBURY 

Whatever  I  feared,  I  feared  him  more:  and  turning 
my  horse,  I  sat  shivering.  For  notwithstanding  liis  con- 
fident words  I  saw  that  he  was  handling  his  holster;  and 
I  knew  that  he  was  drawing  a  pistol;  and  it  was  well 
the  suspense  was  short.  Before  I  had  time  for  many 
qualms,  the  horseman,  a  dark  figure,  lurched  on  us 
through  the  gloom,  pulled  his  horse  on  to  its  haunches, 
and,  with  raised  hand,  cried  to  us  to  deliver. 

"  And  no  nonsense!  "  he  added  sharply.  "  Or  a  brace 
of  balls  will  soon " 

Smith  laughed.     "  Box  it  about!  "  he  cried. 

"  Hallo!  "  the  stranger  answered,  taking  a  lower  tone; 
and  he  j^eered  at  us,  bending  down  over  his  horse's  neck. 
"  Who  are  you,  in  fly-by-night  ?  " 

"  A  box-it-about!  "  my  companion  answered  with  tai't- 
ness.  "  That  is  enough  for  you.  So  good-night.  And 
I  wish  you  better  luck  next  time." 

"  But " 

"St!"  Smith  answered,  cutting  him  short.  "lam 
going  to  my  father,  and  the  less  said  about  it  the  better." 

"So?  Well,  give  him  my  love,  then."  And  backing 
his  horse,  the  stranger  bade  us  good-night,  and  with  a 
curse  on  his  bad  fortune  turned  and  rode  off.  Smith 
saw  him  go,  and  then  wheeling  we  took  the  road  again. 

Safely,  however,  as  we  had  emerged  from  this  encoun- 
ter, and  far  as  it  went  towards  joroving  that  we  bore  a 
talisman  against  the  ordinary  perils  of  travellers,  it  was 
not  of  a  kind  to  reassure  a  law-abiding  man.  To  be 
hung  as  the  accomplice  of  footpads  and  high-tobys  was  a 
scarcely  better  fate  than  to  be  robbed  and  Avounded  by 
them,  and  I  was  heartily  glad  when  we  found  ourselves  in 
the  outskirts  of  Eochester,  and  stopping  at  a  house  of  call 
outside  the  sleeping  city,  roused  a  drowsy  hostler,  and 
late  as  the  hour  was,  gained  entrance  and  a  welcome. 

I  confess,  that  safe  in  these  comfortable  quarters,  on  a 
sanded  hearth,  before  a  rekindled  fire,  with  lights,  and 


SHREWSBURY  313 

food,  and  ale  at  my  elbow,  and  a  bed  in  prospect,  I  f onnd 
my  apprehensions  and  misgivings  less  hard  to  bear  than 
on  the  dark  road  above  Tilbury  flats.  I  began  to  think 
less  of  the  body  creaking  in  its  irons  on  the  gibbet  above 
Dartford,  and  more  of  the  chances  of  ultimate  safety. 
And  Smith  growing  civil,  if  not  genial,  I  went  on  to 
count  the  hours  that  must  elapse,  before,  our  miserable 
mission  accomplished,  I  should  see  London  again.  After 
all,  why  should  I  not  see  London  again  ?  What  was  to 
prevent  me?  Where  lay  the  hindrance?  In  three  days, 
in  three  days  we  should  be  back.  So  I  told  myself;  and 
looking  up  quickly  met  Smith's  eyes  brooding  gloomily 
on  me. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

Such  a  night  ride  as  I  have  described,  would  have 
been  impossible,  or  at  least  outrageously  dangerous,  a  year 
or  two  later;  when  a  horde  of  disbanded  soldiers,  dismissed 
from  the  colours  by  the  Peace  of  Ryswick,  took  to  the 
roads  for  a  subsistence,  and  for  a  period,  until  they  per- 
ished miserably,  made  even  the  purlieus  of  Kensington 
unsafe. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write  we  ran  risk  enough,  as  has 
been  demonstrated;  but  the  reasons  which  induced  Smith 
to  leave  London  at  that  hour,  and  under  cover  of  dark- 
ness, may  be  conceived.  Aj^parently  they  did  not  extend 
to  the  rest  of  the  journey;  for,  after  lying  late  at  Roch- 
ester, we  rode  on  by  Sittingbourne  to  Feversham,  and 
thence  after  a  comfortable  dinner,  turned  south  by  Bad- 
lesmere,  and  so  towards  Ashford,  where  we  arrived  a  few 
minutes  after  nightfall. 

Those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  Old  Inn  at  the  en- 
trance into  Ashford  will  remember  tliat  the   yard  and 


314  SHREWSBURY 

stables  are  as  conspicuous  for  size  and  commodiousness  as 
the  house,  a  black  and  white  building,  a  little  withdrawn 
from  the  street,  is  strikingly  marked  by  the  lack  of  those 
advantages.  I  believe  that  the  huge  concourse  thither 
of  cattle-drovers  at  the  season  of  the  great  fairs  is  the 
cause  of  this;  those  persons  lying  close  themselves  but 
needing  space  for  their  beasts.  And  at  such  times  I  can 
imagine  that  the  roomy  enceinte,  and  those  long  lines  of 
buildings,  may  be  cheerful  enough. 

But  seen,  as  we  saw  them,  when  we  rode  in,  by  the 
last  cold  light  of  a  dull  evening,  with  nothing  clear  or 
plain  save  the  roof  ridge,  and  that  black  against  a  pale 
sky,  they  and  the  place  looked  infinitely  dismal.  ISlor  did 
any  warmth  of  welcome,  or  cheerful  greeting,  such  as  even 
poor  inns  afford  to  all  and  sundry,  amend  the  first  im- 
pression of  gloom  and  decay,  which  the  house  and  its 
surroundings  conveyed  to  the  mind.  On  the  contrary, 
not  a  soul  was  to  be  seen,  and  we  had  ridden  half  way 
across  the  yard,  and  Smith  had  twice  called  "House! 
House!  "  before  anyone  was  aroused. 

Then  the  upper  half  of  a  stable-door  creaked  open,  and 
a  man  holding  up  a  great  horn  Ian  thorn,  peered  out  at  us. 

"Are  you  all  asleep ?"  cried  my  companion.  And 
when  the  man  made  no  answer,  but  still  continued  to 
look  at  us,  "  What  is  in  the  house,"  he  added,  angrily, 
"that  you  stick  out  your  death's  head  to  frighten  com- 
pany ?  Is  it  lace  or  old  Nantz  ?  Or  French  goods  ?  Any 
way,  box  it  about  and  be  done  with  it,  and  attend  to  us." 

"Eight,  master,  right,  I  am  coming,"  the  man  an- 
swered, suddenly  rousing  himself;  and  opening  the  lower 
half  of  the  door,  he  came  heavily  out.  "At  your  ser- 
vice," he  said.     "  But  we  have  little  company." 

"The  times  are  bad?" 

"  Ay,  they  looked  a  bit  better  six  months  back." 

"  But  nothing  came  of  it?  " 

"  No,  worse  luck." 


SHREWSBURY  315 

"  And  all  that  is  called  for  now — is  common  Hollands, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

The  fellow  grinned.  "' Eight,"  lie  said.  "You  have 
the  hang  of  it,  master." 

My  companion"  slid  to  the  ground,  and  began  to  remove 
liis  pistols  and  saddlebag.  "  Still  you  have  some  guests, 
I  suppose  ?  "  he  said. 

"Ay,  one,"  the  man  answered,  slowly,  and  I  thought, 
reluctantly. 

"  Is  he,  by  any  chance,  a  man  of  the  name  of — but  never 
mind  his  name,"  Smith  said.     "  Is  he  a  surgeon  ?  " 

The  hostler  or  host — for  he  had  the  air  of  playing  both 
parts — a  big  clumsy  fellow,  with  immobile  features  and 
small  eyes,  looked  at  us  thoughtfully  and  chewed  a  straw. 
"Well,  may  be,"  he  said,  at  last.  "I  never  asked 
him."  And  without  more  he  took  Smith's  horse  by  the 
rein  and  lurched  through  the  door  into  the  stable;  the 
lanthorn  swinging  in  his  hand  as  he  did  so,  and  faintly 
disclosing  a  long  vista  of  empty  stalls  and  darkling  roof. 
As  I  followed,  leading  in  my  sorry  mare,  a  horse  in  a 
distant  stall  whinnied  loudly. 

"  That  is  his  hack,  I  suppose,"  said  Smith;  and  coolly 
taking  up  the  lanthorn,  which  the  other  had  that  moment 
set  down,  he  moved  through  the  stable  in  the  direction 
whence  the  sound  had  come. 

The  man  of  the  house  uttered  something  between  an 
oath  and  a  grunt  of  surprise;  and  letting  fall  the  flap  of 
the  saddle  which  he  had  just  raised  that  he  might  slacken 
the  girths,  he  went  after  him.  "Softly,  master,"  he 
said,  "  every  man  to  his " 

But  Smith  was  already  standing  with  the  lanthorn  held 
high,  gazing  at  a  handsomely-shaped  chestnut  horse  that 
pricking  its  ears  turned  a  gentle  eye  on  us  and  whinnied 
again.  "  Umph,  not  so  bad,"  my  companion  said. 
"  His  horse,  I  suppose  ?  " 

The  man  with  the  straw  looked  the  animal  over  reflec- 


316  SHREWSBURY 

tively.     At  leugtli  with  sometliiug  between  a  grunt  and 
a  sigh,  "  He  came  on  it,"  he  said. 

"  lie  won't  go  on  it  in  a  hurry." 

"  Why  not?  "  said  the  man,  more  quickly  than  he  had 
yet  spoken :  and  he  looked  from  the  liorse  to  my  compan- 
ion with  a  hint  of  hostility. 

"Have  you  no  eyes?"  Smith  answered,  roughly. 
"  The  oif-fore  has  filled;  the  horse  is  as  lame  as  a  mum- 
per! " 

"Grammon!"  cried  the  other,  evidently  stung.  And 
then,  "  You  know  a  deal  about  horses  in  London!  And 
never  saw  one  or  a  blade  of  green  grass,  maybe,  until 
you  came  Kent  way !  ' ' 

"As  you  please,"  Smith  said,  indifferently.  "But 
mv  business  is  not  with  the  horse  but  the  master.  So 
take  us  in,  my  good  friend,  and  give  us  supper,  for  I  am 
famished.  And  afterwards,  if  you  please,  we  will  see 
him." 

"That  is  as  he  pleases,"  the  fellow  answered  sulkily. 
But  he  raised  no  second  objection,  and  when  we  had  lit- 
tered down  the  horses  he  led  the  way  into  the  house  by 
a  back  door,  and  so  along  a  passage  and  down  a  step  or 
two,  which  landed  us  in  a  room  with  a  sanded  floor,  a 
fire,  and  a  show  of  warmtli  and  comfort,  as  welcome  as 
it  was  unexpected.  Here  he  left  us  to  remove  our  cloaks, 
and  we  presently  heard  him  giving  orders,  and  bustling 
the  kitchen. 

The  floor  of  the  room  in  which  he  had  left  us  was  sunk 
a  little  below  the  level  of  the  road  outside;  and  the  ceil- 
ing being  low  and  the  window  of  greater  width  than 
height,  and  the  mantel-shelf  having  for  ornament  a  row 
of  clean  delft  and  pewter,  I  thought  that  no  place  had 
ever  looked  more  snug  and  cosy.  But  whatever  comfort 
I  looked  to  derive  from  surroundings  so  much  better  than 
I  had  expected,  was  dashed  by  Smith's  flrst  words,  who, 
as  soon  as  we  were  alone  came  close  to  me  under  tlie  pre- 


SHREWSBURY  317 

tence  of  unclasping  my  cloak,  and  in  a  low,  guarded 
tone,  and  with  a  look  of  the  grimmest,  warned  me  to  play 
my  part. 

"  We  go  upstairs  after  supper,  and  in  five  minutes  it 
will  be  done,"  he  muttered.  "Go  through  with  it 
boldly,  and  in  twenty-four  hours  you  may  be  back  in 
London.  But  fail  or  play  me  false,  Mr.  Price,  and,  by 
heaven,  I  put  a  ball  through  your  head  first,  and  my  own 
afterwards.  Do  you  mark  me  ?  Do  you  mark  me, 
man  ?  ' ' 

I  whisjjered  in  abject  nervousness — seeing  that  he  was 
indeed  in  earnest — that  I  would  do  my  best;  and  he 
handed  me  a  ring  which  was  doubtless  the  same  that  the 
Countess  had  given  to  her  woman.  It  had  a  great  dog 
cut  cameo-wise  on  the  stone,  which  I  think  was  an  opal ; 
and  it  fitted  my  finger  not  ill.  But  I  had  no  more  than 
time  to  glance  at  it  before  the  host  and  his  wife,  a  pale, 
scared-looking  woman,  came  in  with  some  bacon  and 
eggs  and  ale,  and  as  one  or  other  of  them  staved  with  us 
while  we  ate,  and  watched  us  closely,  nothing  more  j^assed. 
Smith  talking  indifferently  to  them,  sometimes  about  the 
fruit  harvest,  and  sometimes  in  cant  phrases  about  the 
late  plot,  the  arrest  of  Hunt  at  Dymchurch  (who  had 
been  used  to  harbour  people  until  they  had  crossed),  how 
often  Gill's  ship  came  over,  Mr.  Birkenhead's  many  es- 
capes, and  the  like.  Probably  the  man  and  woman  were 
testing  Smith;  but  if  so,  he  satisfied  them,  for  when  we 
had  finished  our  meal,  and  he  asked  openly  if  Sir  John 
would  see  us,  they  raised  no  objection,  but  the  man, 
taking  a  light  from  the  woman's  hand,  led  the  way  up 
a  low-browed  staircase  to  a  room  over  that  in  which  we 
had  supped.  Here  he  knocked,  and  a  voice  bidding  us 
enter.  Smith  went  in,  and  I  after  him,  my  heart  beating 
furiously. 

The  room,  which  resembled  the  one  beneath  it  in  being 
low  in  the  ceiling,  looked  the  lower  for  the  gaunt  height 


318  SHREWSBURY 

of  its  one  occupant,  who  had  risen,  and  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  to  receive  us.  Thin  and  spare  by 
nature,  tlie  meagre  and  rather  poor-looking  dress  which 
he  wore  added  to  the  singularity  of  his  aspect.  With  a 
dry-as-dust  complexion,  and  a  three-days'-old  beard,  he 
had  eyes  light-coloured,  quick-glancing,  and  sanguine,  and 
notwithstanding  the  danger  and  uncertainty  of  his  posi- 
tion, a  fugitive  in  this  wayside  house,  with  a  thousand 
guineas  on  his  head — for  I  never  doubted  I  was  looking 
on  Sir  John  Fenwick — his  manner  was  at  one  moment 
arrogant  and  boastful,  and  at  another  dreamy.  He  had 
something  of  the  air  of  a  visionary;  nor  could  any  one 
be  long  in  his  company  without  discerning  that  here  was 
the  very  man  for  our  purpose;  one  to  whom  all  his 
geese  were  swans,  and  a  clasp  of  the  hand,  if  it  marched 
with  his  hopes  and  wishes,  of  as  much  value  as  a  pledge 
signed  and  sealed. 

All  this  taken  for  granted,  it  is  to  be  confessed  that  at 
first  sight  of  us,  his  face  fell,  and  his  chagrin  was  unmis- 
takable. "  It  is  you.  Smith,  is  it,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh. 
"Well,  well,  and  I  thought  it  was  Birkenhead.  Brown 
said  it  was  not,  but  I  thought  that  it  must  be.  It  is  not 
every  one  knows  Birkenhead  when  he  sees  him," 

"  No,  Sir  John,  that  is  true." 

"  However,  I  shall  see  him  in  the  morning.  I  go 
on  board  at  New  Eomney  at  four,  and  doubtless  he  will 
be  with  Gill.     When  we  come  back " 

"Ah,  Sir  John,  times  will  be  changed  then!"  Smith 
said. 

"  They  will,  sir,  with  this  Dutch  crew  and  their  low 
beast  of  a  master  swept  into  the  sea!  And  gentlemen  in 
their  homes  again!  I  have  been  amusing  myself  even 
now,"  he  continued,  his  eyes  wandering  to  the  table  on 
which  lay  a  litter  of  jjapers,  an  inkhorn,  and  two  snuffy 
candles,  "  with  plans  for  a  new  wing  at  Fenwick  Hall,  in 
the  old  style,  I  think,  or  possibly  on  the  lines  of  the  other 


SHREWSBURY  319 

house  at  Hexham.  I  am  divided  between  the  two.  The 
Hall  is  the  more  commodious;  the  old  Abbey  has  greater 
stateliness.  However,  I  must  put  up  my  scripts  now  for 
I  must  be  in  the  saddle  in  an  hour.  Have  you  commands 
for  the  other  side  of  the  water,  Mr.  Smith  ?  If  so  I  am 
at  your  service." 

Smith  answered  with  a  little  hesitation,  "  Certainly, 
my  business  has  to  do  with  that.  Sir  John."  And  he 
was  proceeding  to  explain  when  the  baronet,  rubbing  his 
hands  in  glee,  cut  him  short. 

''Ha!  I  thought  so,"  he  cried,  beaming  with  satisfac- 
tion. ''Faith,  it  is  so  with  everyone.  They  are  all  of 
a  tale.  My  service,  and  my  respects,  and  my  duty — all 
to  go  you  know  where ;  and  it  is  '  Make  it  straight  for 
me.  Sir  John,'  and  '  You  will  tell  the  King,  Sir  John?  ' 
and  '  Answer  for  me  as  for  yourself.  Sir  John! '  all  day 
long  when  they  can  come  at  me.  Why,  man,  you  know 
something,  but  you  would  be  surprised  what  messages  I 
am  carrying  over.  And  when  people  have  not  spoken 
they  have  told  me  as  much  by  a  look;  and  those  the  least 
likely.  Men  who  ten  years  ago  were  as  black  Exclusion- 
ists  as  old  Noll  himself!  " 

"  I  cati  believe  it,  Sir  John,"  said  Smith  with  gravity, 
while  I,  who  knew  how  the  late  conspiracy  had  united  the 
whole  country  in  King  William's  defence,  so  that  the 
man  who  refused  to  sign  the  Common's  Association  to 
that  end  went  in  peril  of  violence,  listened  with  as  much 
bewilderment  as  I  had  felt  three  minutes  before,  on  hear- 
ing how  this  same  man,  a  fugitive  and  an  outlaw,  bound 
beyond  seas,  had  been  employing  his  time! 

However,  he  was  as  far  from  guessing  what  was  in  my 
mind  as  he  was  from  doubting  Smith's  sincerity;  and 
encouraged  by  the  latter's  assent  he  continued:  "It  is 
parlous  strange  to  me,  Mr.  Smith,  how  the  drunken 
Dutch  boor  stands  a  day!  Strange  and  passing  strange! 
But  it  cannot  last.     It  will  not  last  out  the  year.     These 


320  SEBEWSBUBY 

executions  have  opened  men's  eyes  finely  !  And  by 
Christmas  we  shall  be  back." 

"  A  merry  Christmas  it  will  be,"  said  Smith.  "  Heaven 
grant  it.  But  you  have  not  asked,  Sir  John,  who  it  is  I 
have  with  me." 

At  that  and  at  a  sign  he  made  me,  I  let  fall  the  collar 
of  the  cloak  I  was  wearing;  which,  in  obedience  to  his 
directions,  I  had  hitherto  kept  high  about  my  chin.  Sir 
John,  his  eyes  drawn  to  me,  as  much  by  my  action  as  by 
Smith's  words,  stared  at  me  a  moment  before  his  mouth 
opened  wide  in  recognition  and  surprise.  Then,  "  I — I 
am  surely  not  mistaken!"  he  cried,  advancing  a  step, 
while  the  colour  rose  in  his  sallow  face.  "  It  is — it  cer- 
tainly is " 

"Sir  John,"  Smith  cried  in  haste,  and,  he,  too,  ad- 
vanced a  step  and  raised  a  hand  in  warning,  "  this  is 
Colonel  Talbot!  Colonel  Talbot,  mark  you,  sir;  I  am 
sure  you  understand  me,  and  the  reasons  which  make  it 
impossible  for  any  but  Colonel  Talbot  to  visit  you  here. 
He  has  done  me  the  honour  to  accompany  me.  But, 
perhaps,"  he  continued,  checking  himself  with  an  ajr 
of  deference,  "  it  were  more  fitting  I  left  you  now." 

"No,"  I  said  hurriedly,  repeating  the  lesson  I  had 
learned  by  rote,  and  in  which  Smith  had  not  failed  to 
practice  me  a  dozen  times  that  day.  "  I  am  here  to  one 
end  only — to  ask  Sir  John  Fenwick  to  do  Colonel  Talbot 
a  kindness;  to  take  this  ring  and  convey  it  with  my  ser- 
vice and  duty — whither  he  is  going." 

"  Oh,  but  this  is  extraordinary!  "  Sir  John  cried,  lift- 
ing his  hands  and  eyes  in  a  kind  of  ecstasy.  "This 
is  a  dispensation!  A  providence!  But,  my  lord,"  he 
continued  with  rapture,  "  there  is  one  more  step  you  may 
take,  one  more  effort  you  may  make.  Be  the  restorer, 
the  Monk  of  this  generation!  So  ripe  is  the  pear  that 
were  you  to  ride  through  the  City  to-morrow,  and  pro- 
claim our  rightful  sovereign,   not  a  citizen  but  would 


SIR   JOHN- 


STARED    AT   ME   A   MOMENT 


SHREWSBURY  323 

bless  you,  not  a  soldier  but  would  throw  down  his  pike! 
The  Blues  are  with  us  to  a  man,  and  enraged  besides  at 
Keyes's  execution.  And  the  rest  of  the  army — do  you 
dream  that  they  see  Dutch  colonels  promoted  and  Dutch 
soldiers  overpaid,  and  do  not  resent  it  ?  I  tell  you,  my 
lord — your  Grace,  I  should  say,  for  doubtless  tlie  King 
will  confirm  it." 

"Sir  John,"  I  said  hastily,  assuming  an  anger  I  did 
not  feel.  ''  You  mistake  me.  I  am  Colonel  Talbot  and 
no  other.  And  I  am  here  not  to  listen  to  plans  or  make 
suggestions,  but  to  request  a  favour  at  your  hands.  Be 
good  enough  to  convey  that  ring  with  my  service  whither 
you  are  going." 

"And  that  is  all?"  he  cried  reproachfully.  "You 
will  say  no  more?  " 

"That  is  all,  sir,"  I  answered;  and  then  catching 
Smith's  eye,  I  added,  "  Save  this.  You  may  add  that, 
when  tlie  time  comes,  I  shall  know  what  to  do,  and  I 
shall  do  it." 

This  time,  sobered  by  my  words  and  manner,  he  took 
in  silence  the  ring  I  proffered;  but  having  glanced  at  it, 
gave  way  to  a  second  burst  of  rapture  and  Jubilation, 
more  selfish  and  personal  than  the  first,  but  not  less 
hearty.  "This  will  be  the  best  news  Lord  Middleton 
has  had  for  a  twelvemonth!  "  he  cried  gleefully.  "  And 
that  I  should  succeed  where  I  am  told  that  he  failed! 
Gad !  I  am  the  proudest  man  in  England,  your  Grace — 
Colonel  Talbot,  I  mean.  We  will  pound  Melfort  and 
that  faction  with  this!  We  will  pound  them  to  powder! 
He  has  wasted  half  a  million  and  not  got  such  an  adher- 
ent! Good  Lord,  I  shall  not  rest  now  until  I  am  across 
with  the  news." 

"Nor  I — until  Colonel  Talbot  is  on  the  road  again," 
said  Smith,  intervening  deftly.  "  At  the  best  this  is  no 
very  safe  place  for  him." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Sir  John,  with  ready  consider- 


324  SHREWSBURY 

ation.     "  And  I  should  be  riding  within  the  half-hour. 
But  to  Romney.     You,  I  suppose,  return  to  London?  " 

"  To  London,"  I  said,  mechanically. 

"  Direct?  "  said  he,  with  deference. 

"As  directly  as  we  dare,"  Smith  answered;  and  with 
the  word  moved  to  the  door  and  ojDened  it.  On  which  I 
bowed  and  was  for  going  out;  perhaps  with  a  little  awk- 
wardness. But  Sir  John,  too  deeply  impressed  by  the 
honour  I  had  done  him  to  let  me  retire  so  lamely,  started 
forward,  and  snatching  up  a  candle,  would  hold  the  door 
and  light  me;  bending  his  long  back,  and  calling  to 
Brown  to  look  to  us — to  look  to  us!  Nor  was  this  all; 
for  when  I  halted  half  way  down  the  stairs,  and  turned, 
feeling  that  such  courtesy  demanded  some  acknowledge- 
ment or  at  least  a  word  of  thanks,  he  took  the  word  out 
of  my  mouth. 

"  Hist!  Colonel  Talbot!  "  he  cried  in  a  loud  whisper; 
and  leaning  far  over  the  stairs  he  held  the  light  high 
with  one  hand  and  shaded  his  eyes  with  the  other. 
'*  You  know  that  Ave  have  the  Tower  ?  " 

"  The  Tower?  "  I  muttered,  not  understanding  him. 

"  To  be  sure.  Ailesbury  has  it  in  his  hand.  It  will 
declare  for  us  whenever  he  gets  the  word.  But — you 
know  it  from  him,  I  suppose?" 

"From  Lord  Ailesbury ?  "  I  exclaimed  in  sheer  sur- 
prise.    "  But  he  is  a  prisoner!  " 

Sir  John  winked.  "  Prisoner  and  master!  "  he  mut- 
tered, nodding  vigorously.  "  But  there,  I  must  not  keep 
you.     Good  luck  and  ho7i  voyage,  M.  le  due." 

Which  was  the  last  I  saw  of  him  for  that  time.  Nor 
did  I  ever  see  him  again  save  on  one  occasion.  That  he 
was  a  violent  and  factious  man,  and  a  foe  to  the  Protest- 
ant succession  I  do  not  deny;  nor  that  some  passages  in 
his  life  do  him  little  credit,  and  the  most  bruited  the 
least.  But  for  all  this,  and  though  I  was  then  even  a 
stranger  to  him,  I  am  fain  to  confess  that  as  I  stumbled 


SHREWSBURY  325 

down  the  stairs,  and  left  the  poor  misguided  gentleman 
alone  in  his  mean  room  to  pack  up  those  plans  for  the 
extension  of  the  old  house  that  would  never  again  own  a 
Fenwick  for  its  master,  and  so  to  set  out  on  his  dark  jour- 
ney, I  felt  as  much  pity  for  him,  as  loathing  for  the 
trickster  who  employed  me.  And  so  far  was  this  carried 
and  so  much  influence  had  it  with  me  that  when  we 
reached  the  room  below  and  the  landlord  having  left  us  to 
see  to  the  horses,  Smith  in  his  joy  at  our  success  clapped 
me  on  the  shoulder,  I  shrank  from  his  hand  as  if  it 
burned  me;  shrank,  and  burst  into  childish  tears  of  rage. 
Naturally  Smith,  unable  to  comprehend,  stared  at  me 
in  astonishment.  ''  Why,  man,"  he  cried,  "  what  is  the 
matter  ?     AVhat  ails  you  ?  " 

You!  "  I  said.     "  You,  curse  you." 


a 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

AiiTD  doubtless  it  was  this  outbreak,  or  rather  the  sus- 
picion of  me  which  it  sowed  in  Smith's  mind,  that  occa- 
sioned the  sequel  of  our  adventure;  for  when  he  had 
cursed  me  for  a  fool  and  had  put  on  his  cloak,  being  now 
ready  to  go  out,  he  seemed  to  be  in  two  minds  about 
it;  as  if  he  dared  neither  leave  me  where  I  was,  lest  I 
should  communicate  with  Sir  John,  nor  take  me  with 
him  on  his  immediate  errand.  More  than  once  he  went 
to  the  door,  and  eying  me  askance  and  sourly,  came  back ; 
but  in  the  erul  and  after  standing  a  while  irresolute,  bit- 
ing his  nails,  he  made  up  his  mind,  and  curtly  bade  me 
follow  him. 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  am  to  saddle  for  yon,  you 
whelp  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Be  stirring!  and  have  a  care,  or  I 
shall  bore  that  hole  in  you  yet.     Take  that  bag  and  go 


326  SHREWSBURY 

before  me.     By  G ,  I  wish  you  were  at  the  bottom  of 

the  nearest  horse-pond!  " 

His  words  had  the  effect  he  intended,  of  bringing  me 
to  my  senses;  but  they  went  farther.  For  in  proportion 
as  they  cooled  my  temper  they  awakened  my  fears;  and 
though  I  obeyed  him  abjectly,  took  up  my  bag  and  fol- 
lowed him,  it  was  with  a  sudden  and  horrible  distrust  of 
his  purpose.  I  saw  that  I  had  not  only  ceased  to  be 
of  use  to  him,  but  was  now  in  his  way,  and  might  be  a 
danger  to  him,  and  the  night — which  enveloped  us  the 
moment  we  crossed  the  threshold  and  seemed  the  more 
dreary  and  forbidding  for  the  ruddy  light  and  comfort  we 
left  behind  us — reminding  me  of  the  long  dark  miles  I 
must  ride  by  his  side,  each  mile  a  terror  to  one  and  an 
opportunity  to  the  other,  I  had  much  ado  not  to  give  way 
to  instant  panic  there  and  then.  However,  for  the  time 
I  controlled  myself;  and  stumbling  across  the  gloomy 
yard  to  the  spot  where  a  faint  gleam  of  light  indicated 
the  door  of  the  stables,  I  went  in. 

The  landlord  was  saddling  our  horses;  and  a  little 
cheered  by  the  warmth  of  his  lanthorn,  I  went  to  help 
him.  Smith  turned  aside,  as  I  thought,  into  the  next 
stall.  But  Brown  was  sharper  and  more  suspicious,  and 
in  a  twinkling  called  to  him  lustily,  to  know  what  he  was 
doing.  Getting  no  answer,  "  Devil  take  him,"  the  land- 
lord cried.  "He  cannot  keep  from  that  horse!  Here, 
you !     What  are  you  doing  there  ?  " 

"Coming!"  Smith  answered;  but  even  as  he  spoke  I 
caught  the  smart  click  of  iron  falling  on  iron,  and  the 
horse  in  the  distant  stall  moved  sharply  with  a  hurried 
clatter  of  hoofs  on  the  stones.  "Coming!"  Smith  re- 
peated.    "  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  man  ?  " 

"  You  had  better  come,"  the  landlord  answered  sav- 
agely. "  Or  I  shall  fetch  you.  Here  you!  "  this  to  me, 
"lead  yours  out,  will  you.  I  want  to  see  your  backs, 
and  be  quit  of  you ! ' ' 


SHREWSBURY  327 

I  took  my  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  led  it  out  of  the 
stable,  while  Brown  went  to  bit  the  other.  And  so, 
being  alone  outside,  and  the  moon  rising  at  the  moment 
over  the  roof  of  the  house  and  showing  me  the  open 
gates  at  the  end  of  the  yard,  the  impulse  to  escape  from 
Smith  while  I  had  the  opportunity  came  on  me  with 
overpowering  force.  Better  acquainted  than  the  land- 
lord with  the  villain's  plans  I  had  not  a  doubt  that  at 
that  very  moment  he  was  laming  Sir  John's  horse  for  the 
pur|)ose  of  detaining  him;  and  the  cold-blooded  treach- 
ery of  this  act,  filling  me  with  as  much  terror  on  my  own 
account — w^ho  might  be  the  next  victim — as  hatred  of 
the  perpetrator,  I  climbed  softly  to  my  saddle,  and  began 
to  walk  my  horse  towards  the  gates.  Doubtless  Smith 
was  too  busy,  cloaking  his  own  movements,  to  be  obser- 
vant of  mine.  I  reached  the  gates  unnoticed,  and  turning 
instinctively  from  London — in  which  direction  I  fancied 
that  he  would  be  sure  to  pursue  me — I  kicked  my  mare 
first  into  a  quick  walk,  then  into  a  cautious  trot,  finally 
into  a  canter.  The  beast,  though  far  from  speedy,  was 
fresh  from  its  corn;  it  took  hold  of  the  bit,  shied  at  a 
chance  light  in  a  cotter's  window,  and  went  faster  and 
faster,  its  ears  pricked  forward.  In  a  minute  we  had 
left  Ashford  behind  us,  and  were  clattering  through  the 
moonlight.  With  one  hand  on  the  pommel  and  the 
other  holding  the  shortened  reins  I  urged  the  mare  on 
with  all  the  pressure  of  my  legs;  and  albeit  I  trembled, 
now  at  some  late-seen  obstacle,  which  proved  to  be  only 
the  shadow  of  a  tree,  thrown  across  the  road,  and  now  at 
the  steepness  of  a  descent  that  appeared  suddenly  before 
me,  I  never  faltered,  but  uphill  and  downhill  drove  in 
my  heels,  and  with  fear  behind  me,  rode  in  the  night  as 
I  had  never  before  dared  to  ride  in  the  daylight. 

I  had  known  nothing  like  it  since  the  summer  dav 
twelve  years  before  when  I  had  fled  across  the  Hertford- 
shire meadows  on   my  feet.      The  sweat  ran  down  me, 


328  SHREWSBURY 

I  stooj^ed  in  the  saddle  out  of  pure  weakness;  if  the 
horse  jwicked  its  ears  forward  I  spread  mine  backward 
listening  for  sounds  of  pursuit.  But  such  a  speed  could 
not  be  long  maintained,  and  when  we  had  gone,  as  I 
judged,  two  miles,  the  mare  began  to  flag,  and  the  canter 
became  a  trot.  Still  for  another  mile  I  urged  her  on, 
until  feeling  her  labour  under  me,  and  foreseeing  that  I 
must  ride  far,  I  had  the  thought  to  turn  into  the  first 
lane  to  which  I  came,  and  there  wait  in  the  shadow  of  a 
tree  until  Smith,  if  he  followed,  should  pass. 

I  did  this,  sprang  down,  and  standing  by  my  panting 
horse,  in  a  marshy  hollow,  some  two  hundred  paces  from 
the  road,  listened  intently,  for  twenty  minutes,  it  may 
be,  but  they  seemed  to  be  hours  to  me.  After  the  life  I 
had  been  leading  in  London,  this  loneliness  in  the  night 
in  a  strange  and  wild  place,  and  with  a  relentless  enemy 
on  my  track,  appalled  my  very  soul.  I  was  hot  and  yet 
I  shivered,  and  started  at  the  least  sound.  The  scream 
of  a  curlew  daunted  me,  the  rustling  of  the  rushes  and 
sedge  shook  me,  and  when  a  sad  wail,  as  of  a  multitude 
of  lost  souls  passed  overhead,  I  cowered  almost  to  my 
knees.  Yet,  inasmuch  as  these  sounds,  doleful  and 
dreary  as  they  were,  were  all  I  heard,  and  the  night  air 
brought  no  tramjiling  of  distant  hoofs  to  my  ear,  I  had 
reason  to  be  thankful,  and  more  than  thankful;  and  my 
mare  having  by  this  time  got  her  wind  again,  I  led  her 
back  to  the  road,  climbed  into  the  saddle  and  plodded  on 
steadily;  deriving  a  wonderful  relief  and  confidence  from 
the  thought  that  Smith  had  followed  me  London- wards. 

Moreover,  I  had  conceived  a  sort  of  horror  of  the  lone- 
liness of  the  waste  conntry-side,  and  to  keep  the  highway 
was  willing  to  run  some  risk.  I  took  it  that  the  road  I 
was  travelling  must  bring  me  to  Romney,  and  for  a  good 
hour  and  a  half,  I  jogged  with  a  loose  rein  through  the 
gloom,  the  way  becoming  ever  flatter  and  wetter,  the 
wind  more  chill  and  salt,  and  the  night  darker,  the  moon 


SHREWSBURY  829 

being  constantly  overcast  by  clouds.  In  that  marshy  dis- 
trict are  few  hamlets  or  farms,  and  those  of  the  smallest, 
and  very  sparsely  scattered.  Once  or  twice  I  heard  the 
bark  of  a  distant  sheep  dog,  and  once  far  to  tlie  left  I  saw 
a  tiny  light  and  had  the  idea  of  making  for  it.  But  the 
reflection  that  a  dozen  great  ditches,  each  wide  enough 
and  deep  enough  to  smother  my  horse,  might  lie  between 
me  and  the  house,  availed  to  keep  me  in  the  road;  the 
more  as  I  now  felt  sure  from  the  saltness  of  the  night  air 
that  Romuey  and  the  sea  were  at  no  great  distance  in  front 
of  me.  Presently  indeed,  I  made  out  in  front  of  me  two 
moving  lights,  that  I  took  to  be  those  of  ships  riding  at 
anchor,  and  my  Aveary  mare  quickened  her  pace  as  if  she 
smelt  the  stable  and  the  hayrack. 

For  five  minutes  after  that  I  plodded  on  in  the  happy 
belief  that  my  journey  was  as  good  as  over,  and  I  saved ; 
and  I  let  my  mind  dwell  on  shelter  and  safety,  and  a  bed 
and  food  and  the  like,  all  awaiting  me,  as  I  fancied,  in 
the  i")atch  of  low  gloom  before  me  where  my  fancy  pictured 
the  sleeping  town.  Then  on  a  sudden,  my  ear  caught 
the  dull  beat  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on  the  road  behind  me; 
and  my  heart  standing  still  with  terror,  I  plucked  at  my 
reins,  and  stood  to  listen.  Ay,  and  it  was  no  fancy;  a 
moment  satisfied  me  of  that.  Thud-thud,  thud-thud, 
and  then  squash-squash,  squish-squish!  a  horse  was  com- 
ing up  behind  me;  and  not  only  behind  me,  but  hard 
upon  me — within  less  than  a  hundred  paces  of  me.  The 
soft  wet  road  had  smothered  the  sound  up  to  the  last 
moment. 

The  rider  was  so  close  to  me  indeed,  and  I  was  so  much 
taken  by  surprise  that  the  moon  sailing  at  that  instant 
into  a  clear  sky,  showed  me  to  him  before  I  could  set  my 
horse  going;  and,  as  I  started,  whipping  and  spurring 
desperately,  I  heard  the  man  shout.  That  was  enough 
for  me;  plunging  recklessly  forward  along  the  wet,  boggy 
road,  I  flogged  my  horse  into  a  jaded  canter,  and  leaning 


330  SHREWSBURY 

low  in  the  saddle  in  mortal  fear  of  a  bullet,  closed  my 
eyes  to  the  dangers  that  lay  ahead,  and  thought  only  of 
escape  from  that  which  followed  on  my  heels. 

Suddenly,  and  while  I  was  still  kicking  and  urging  on 
my  horse,  before  the  first  flush  of  fear  had  left  me,  I 
heard  a  crash  and  a  cry  behind  me;  but  I  did  not  dare 
at  the  moment  to  look  back.  I  only  leaned  the  lower, 
and  clung  the  more  tightly  to  my  horse's  mane  and  still 
pressed  on.  By-and-by,  however,  hearing  nothing,  it 
flashed  on  me  that  I  was  riding  alone,  that  I  was  no  longer 
pursued ;  and  a  little  later  taking  courage  to  draw  rein  and 
look  back  wearily,  I  found  that  I  could  see  nothing,  nor 
hear  any  sound  save  the  heavy  panting  of  my  own  horse. 
I  had  escaped.  I  had  escaped  and  was  alone  on  the 
marsh.  But  as  I  soon  satisfied  myself,  I  was  no  longer 
on  the  causeway  along  which  I  had  been  travelling  when 
the  man  surprised  me.  The  wind  which  had  then  met 
me  was  now  on  my  right  cheek;  the  lights  for  which  I 
had  been  heading  were  no  longer  visible.  The  track,  too, 
when  I  moved  cautiously  forward,  seemed  more  wet  and 
rouffh;  after  that  it  needed  little  to  convince  me  that  I 
had  strayed  from  the  highway,  probably  at  the  point 
where  my  pursuer  had  fallen. 

This,  since  I  dared  not  return  by  the  way  I  had  come, 
terribly  perplexed  me.  I  dismounted,  and  wet  and  shiv- 
ering stood  by  my  horse,  which  hung  its  head,  and  rest- 
lessly lifted  its  feet  by  turns  as  if  it  already  felt  the  en- 
gulfing power  of  the  moss.  Peering  out  every  way  I  saw 
nothing  but  gloom  and  mist,  the  dark  waste  and  unknown 
depths  of  the  marsh.  It  was  a  situation  to  try  the  stout- 
est, nor  did  it  need  the  mournful  sough  of  the  wind  as  it 
swept  the  flats,  or  the  strange  gurgling  noises  that  from 
time  to  time  rose  from  the  sloughs  about  me  to  add  the 
last  touch  of  fear  and  melancholy  to  the  scene. 

Though,  for  my  own  part,  I  sank  in  no  farther  than 
my  ankles,  the  horse  by  its  restlessness  evinced  a  strong 


SHREWSBURY  331 

sense  of  danger,  and  I  dared  not  stand  still.  But  as 
clouds  had  again  obscured  the  moon  and  the  darkness 
was  absolute,  to  advance  seemed  as  dangerous  as  to 
remain.  However,  in  fear  that  the  horse,  if  I  stood 
where  I  was,  would  break  loose  from  me,  I  led  it  forward 
cautiously:  and  then  the  track  growing  no  worse  but 
rather  better,  and  the  beast  seeming  to  gain  confidence  as 
it  2)roceeded,  I  presently  took  courage  to  remount  again, 
and  dropjDing  the  reins  allowed  it  to  carry  me  whither  it 
would.  This  it  did  slowly  and  with  infinite  caution, 
smelling  rather  than  feeling  the  way,  and  often  stopping 
to  try  a  doubtful  sjiot.  Observing  how  wonderfully  the 
instinct  of  the  beast  aided  it,  and  remembering  that  I 
had  once  been  told  that  horses  feared  nothing  so  much 
as  to  be  smoored  (as  the  fenmen  call  it),  and  would  not 
willingly  run  that  risk,  I  gained  confidence  myself  ; 
which  the  event  justified,  for  by-and-by  I  caught  the  dull 
sound  of  sea-waves  booming  on  a  beach,  and  a  few  min- 
utes afterwards  discerned  in  the  sky  before  me  the  first 
faint  streaks  of  dawn. 

Heaven  knows  how  welcome  it  was  to  me !  I  was  wet, 
weary  and  shivering  with  cold  and  with  the  aguish  air  of 
that  dreary  place;  which  is  so  unwholesome  that  I  am 
told  the  natives  take  drugs  to  stave  off  the  fever,  as 
others  do  ale  and  wine.  But  at  the  sight  I  pricked  up, 
and  the  horse  too;  and  we  moved  on  briskly;  and  ])res- 
ently  by  the  help  of  the  growing  light,  and  through  a 
grey  mist  which  trebled  the  size  of  all  objects,  I  saw  a 
huge  wall  or  bank  loom  across  my  path.  I  was  close  to  it 
when  I  discerned  it;  and  I  had  no  more  than  time  to 
despair  of  surmounting  it,  before  the  horse  was  already 
clambering  up  it.  Scrambling  and  sli2)ping  among  the 
stones,  in  a  minute  or  so  and  with  a  great  clatter  we 
gained  the  summit;  and  saw  below  and  before  us  the 
smooth  milky  surface  of  the  sea  lifting  lazily  under  the  fog. 

So  seen  it  had  a  strangely  weird  and  pallid  aspect,  as 


333  SHREWSBURY 

of  a  dead  sea,  viewed  in  dreams:  and  I  stooa  a  moment  to 
breathe  my  horse  and  admire  the  spectacle;  nor  did  I  fail 
to  thank  God  that  I  was  out  of  that  dreary  and  treach- 
erous place.  Then,  considering  my  future  movements 
and  not  knowing  which  way  I  ought  to  take — to  right  or 
left  along  the  beach — to  gain  the  more  quickly  help  and 
shelter,  I  was  reining  my  mare  down  the  sea  side  of  tlie 
bank  when  a  welcome  sound  cauglit  my  ear.  It  was  a 
man's  voice  giving  an  order.  I  halted  and  peered  through 
the  sea-haze;  and  by-and-by  I  made  out  a  boat,  lying 
beached  at  the  edge  of  the  tide,  some  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  to  my  left.  There  were  men  standing  in  it,  I 
could  not  see  how  many;  and  more  were  in  the  act  of 
pushing  it  off  the  strand.  Their  voices  came  to  me  with 
singular  clearness;  but  the  words  were  unintelligible. 

The  sight  gave  me  pause:  and  for  a  moment  I  stood 
reconnoitring  the  men.  To  advance  or  not  was  the  ques- 
tion, and  I  was  still  debating  it,  and  stiiving  to  deduce 
something  from  the  men's  appearance,  Avhen  something, 
I  never  knew  what — perhaps  some  noise  ill-apprehended 
— led  me  to  turn  aside  my  head.  Whatever  the  cause  of 
the  movement,  it  apprised  me  of  something  little  sus- 
pected. Not  fifty  paces  behind  me  I  saw  the  figure  of  a 
giant  horseman  looming  out  of  the  mist.  He  was  ad- 
vancing along  the  summit  of  the  sea-wall  below  which  I 
stood;  hence  I  saw  him  before  he  made  me  out:  and  this 
gave  me  the  start  and  the  advantage.  I  had  time  to  take 
in  the  thing,  and  seize  my  horse  by  the  head,  and  move 
eight  or  ten  paces  towards  the  boat  before  he  took  the 
cue.  Then  on  neither  side  was  there  any  concealment. 
With  a  cry,  a  yell  rather,  the  mere  sound  of  which  flung 
me  into  a  panic,  the  man  urged  his  horse  down  the  bank 
shouting  fiercely  to  me  to  stand;  I  in  utter  terror  spurred 
mine  across  the  beach  towards  the  men  I  had  seen. 

I  have  said  that  I  had  some  sixty  yards  of  start,  and 
two  hundred  or  so  to  cross,  to  reach  the  boat;  but  the 


SHREWSBURY  333 

horses  were  scarcely  able  to  trot ;  a  yard  was  a  furlong; 
and  the  sand  swallowing  w])  the  sound  of  hoofs,  it  was  a 
veritable  race  of  ghosts,  of  jihantoms,  labouring  through 
the  mist  across  the  flat,  with  the  oily  Stygian  sea  lapping 
the  shore  beside  us.  He  cried  out  in  the  most  violent 
fashion,  now  bidding  me  stay  and  now  bidding  the  men 
stop  me.  And  for  all  I  know  they  might  be  in  his  pay, 
or  at  best  be  some  of  the  reckless  desperadoes  who  on 
that  coast  live  by  owliug  and  worse  practices.  But  they 
were  my  only  hope  and  I  too  cried  to  them;  and  with  joy 
I  saw  them  put  in  again — they  had  before  got  afloat. 
Believing  Smith  to  be  gaining,  I  cried  pitifully  to  them 
to  save  me,  and  then  my  horse  stumbling,  I  flung  myself 
from  the  saddle,  and  plunged  through  the  saud  towards 
them.  At  that,  two  sprang  out  to  meet  me  and  caught 
me  under  my  arms;  and  in  a  moment,  amid  a  jargon  of 
cries  in  a  foreign  tongue  whipped  me  over  the  side  into 
the  boat.  Then  they  pushed  it  off  and  leaj^ed  in  them- 
selves, wet  to  the  thighs;  and  as  my  pursuer  came  lurch- 
ing down  the  beach,  a  i:»istol  drawn  in  his  hand,  a  couple 
of  powerful  strokes  drove  the  boat  through  the  light 
surf.  Waving  frantically  he  yelled  to  the  men  to  wait, 
and  rode  to  his  boot-soles  into  the  water;  but  with  a  jeer- 
ing laugh  and  a  volley  of  foreign  words  the  sailors  pulled 
the  faster  and  tlie  faster,  and  the  mist  lying  thick  on  the 
water,  and  the  boat  sitting  low,  in  half  a  minute  we  lost 
the  last  glimpse  of  him  and  his  passion,  and  rode  out- 
ward on  a  grey  boundless  sea. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

I  SHOULD  have  been  less  than  a  man  had  I  not  thanked 
God  for  my  escape.      But  it  is  in  the  sap  of  a  tree  to  run 


334  SHREWSBURY 

upward  in  the  spring,  and  in  the  blood  of  a  man  to  live 
in  the  present  and  future,  the  past  going  for  little;  and 
I  had  not  crouched  two  minutes  on  the  thwart  before  the 
steady  lurch  of  the  boat  outwards  and  seawards  fixed  my 
attention.  From  this  to  asking  myself  by  what  chance  I 
had  been  saved,  and  who  were  the  men  who  sat  round  me 
— and  evinced  no  more  curiosity  about  me  than  if  they 
had  been  sent  to  the  spot  purely  and  simply  to  rescue 
me — was  but  a  step. 

I  took  it,  scanned  them  stealthily,  and  was  far  from 
reassured;  the  sea-garb  was  then  new  to  me,  and  these 
wearers  of  it  were  the  wildest  of  their  class.  The  fog 
which  enfolded  us  magnified  their  clumsy  shoulders  and 
great  knitted  night-caps  and  the  tarry  ringlets  that  hung 
in  festoons  about  their  scarred  and  tanned  faces.  The 
huge  gnarled  hands  that  swung  to  and  fro  with  the  oars 
were  no  more  like  human  flesh  than  the  sea-boots  which 
the  men  wore,  drawn  high  on  their  thighs.  They  had 
rings  in  their  ears,  and  from  all  came  a  reek  of  tobacco, 
and  salt-fish,  and  strange  oaths;  nor  did  it  need  the  ad- 
dition of  the  hanger  and  pistol  which  each  wore  in  his 
belt  to  inform  me  that  I  had  fallen  once  again  among 
fierce  and  desperate  men. 

Dismayed  by  all  I  saw,  it  yet  surprised  me  that  no 
one  questioned  me.  He  who  sat  in  the  stern  of  the  boat, 
and  seemed  to  be  in  command,  had  a  whistle  continually 
at  his  lips,  and  his  eyes  on  the  curtain  of  haze  before  us; 
but  if  the  tiller  and  navigation  of  the  boat  took  up  his 
thoughts,  there  were  others.  These,  however,  were  con- 
tent to  pull  on  in  silence,  eyeing  me  with  dull  brutish 
stares,  until  the  fog  lifting  disclosed  on  a  sudden  the 
hull  of  a  tall  ship  looming  high  beside  us.  A  shrill  pip- 
ing came  from  it — a  sound  I  had  heard  before,  but  taken 
to  be  the  scream  of  a  sea-bird;  and  this,  as  we  drew  up, 
was  followed  by  a  hail.  The  man  by  my  side  let  his 
whistle   fall   that   he   might   answer — which   he   did,  in 


SHREWSBURY  335 

French.  A  moment  later  our  boat  grated  against  the 
heaving  timbers,  and  I,  looking  up  through  the  raw  morn- 
ing air,  saw  a  man  in  a  boat-cloak  spring  on  the  bulwarks 
and  wave  his  hat. 

"  Welcome!  "  he  cried,  lustily.  "And  God  save  the 
King!  A  near  thing  they  tell  me,  sir.  But  come  on 
board,  come  on  board,  and  we  shall  see  Dunquerque  the 
sooner.  Up  with  you.  Sir  John,  if  you  please,  and  let 
us  be  gone  with  the  fog,  and  no  heel-taps!  " 

Then,  without  another  word,  I  knew  what  had  hap- 
pened; I  knew  why  the  boat  which  had  picked  me  up, 
had  been  waiting  on  the  beach  at  that  hour;  and  as  I  rose 
to  my  feet  on  the  seat,  and  clutched  the  rope  ladder 
which  the  sailors  threw  down  to  me,  my  knees  knocked 
together;  for  I  foresaw  what  I  had  to  expect.  But  the 
deck  was  surer  ground  for  debate  or  explanation  than  the 
cockle-shell  wherein  I  sat,  and  which  tossed  and  ducked 
under  me,  threatening  every  moment  to  upset  my  stom- 
ach; and  I  went  up  giddily,  grasped  the  bulwark,  and, 
aided  by  half-a-dozen  grinning  seamen,  night-capped  and 
ringletted,  I  sprang  down  on  the  deck. 

The  man  in  the  boat-cloak  received  me  with  a  clumsy 
bow,  and  shook  my  hand.  "Give  you  joy.  Sir  John!  " 
he  said.  "  Glad  to  see  you,  sir.  I  began  to  fear  that 
you  were  taken!  A  little  more,  and  I  must  have  left 
you.  But  alFs  well  that  ends  well,  and — your  pardon 
one  moment. ' ' 

With  that  he  broke  off,  and  shouted  half-a-dozen  orders 
in  French  and  English  and  French  to  the  sailors;  and  in 
a  moment  the  capstan,  as  I  afterwards  heard  it  called, 
was  creaking  round,  and  there  was  a  hurry  of  feet,  first 
to  one  side  and  then  to  the  other,  and  a  great  shouting 
and  a  hauling  at  ropes.  The  sliij)  heeled  over  so  suddenly 
that  if  I  had  not  caught  at  the  rail  I  must  have  lost  my 
footing,  and  for  an  instant  the  green  seas  seemed  to  swell 
up  on  a  level  with  tiie  slanting  deck  as  if  they  would 


336  SHRE  WSB  UR  Y 

swallow  us  bodily.  Instead,  the  sloop,  still  heeling  over, 
began  to  gather  way,  and  presently  was  hissing  through 
the  water,  j)iling  the  white  surf  before  it,  only  to  ponr  it 
foaming  to  either  side.  The  haze,  like  a  moving  curtain, 
began  to  glide  by  us;  and  looking  straight  ahead  I  saw  a  yel- 
low glare  that  told  of  the  sun  rising  over  the  French  dunes. 

The  man  who  had  received  me,  and  who  seemed  to  be 
the  master,  returned  to  my  side.  "  We  are  under  way, 
sir,"  he  said,  "and  I  am  glad  of  it.  But  you  will  like 
to  see  Mr.  Birkenhead  ?  He  would  have  met  you,  but 
the  sea-colic  took  him  as  he  lay  on  the  swell  outside 
Dunquerque  whistling  for  a  wind.  He  gets  it  badly  one 
time,  and  one  time  he  is  as  hearty  as  you  are.  He  is 
better  this  morning,  but  he  is  ill  enough." 

I  muttered  that  I  would  see  him  by-and-by,  when  he 
was  better.     That  I  would  lie  down  a  little,  and 

"Oh!  I  have  got  a  bunk  for  you  in  his  cabin,"  the 
master  answered  briskly.  "  I  thought  you  would  want  to 
talk  State  secrets.  Follow  me,  if  you  please,  and  look 
to  your  sea-legs,  sir." 

He  led  the  way  to  a  hatch  or  trap-door,  and  raising  it 
began  to  descend.  Not  daring  to  refuse  I  followed  him, 
down  a  steep  ladder  into  the  dark  bowels  of  the  ship, 
the  reek  of  tar  and  bilge- water,  cheese  and  old  rum, 
growing  stronger  with  every  foot  we  descended.  At  the 
bottom  of  the  ladder  he  pushed  aside  a  sliding  panel, 
and  signed  me  to  j)ass  through  the  opening.  I  obeyed, 
and  found  myself  in  a  sort  of  dog-hole — as  it  seemed  to 
me  who  knew  nothing  of  ships'  cabins — lighted  only  by 
a  span- wide  round  window,  bo  dark,  therefore,  that  I 
stood  a  moment  groping,  and  so  close  and  foul-smelling 
that  my  gorge  rose. 

Out  of  the  gloom  came  a  groan  as  of  a  sick  sheep. 
"  Here  is  Sir  John,  safe  and  sound!  "  cried  the  master 
in  his  sea  tones.  "  There  is  good  medicine  for  you,  Mr. 
Birkenhead."     And  he  peered  into  the  darkness. 


SHREWSBURY  337 

The  only  answer  was  a  second  groan.  ''  Do  you  hear, 
sir?"  the  captain  repeated.     "  Sir  John  is  here." 

A  voice  feebly  yet  unmistakably  d d  Sir  John  and 

the  captain. 

The  master  chuckled  hoarsely.  "  Set  a  frigate  behind 
us  with  a  noose  flying  at  the  yard-arm,  and  there  is  no 
man  like  him!  "  he  said.  "  None,  Sir  John;  and  I  have 
carried  him  across  seventy  times  and  over,  sick  and  well, 
lie  should  know  the  road  from  the  Marsh  to  Southwark 
if  any  man  does.  But  let  him  be  for  the  j^^'esent, 
and  do  you  lie  down  in  the  bunk  above  him,  and  I  Avill 
bring  you  some  Nantz  and  a  crust.  When  he  is  bet- 
ter, he  will  be  as  glad  to  see  you  as  if  you  were  his 
brother." 

I  obeyed,  and  fortified  by  the  strong  waters  he  brought 
me,  was  glad  to  lie  down,  and  under  cover  of  darkness 
consider  my  position  and  what  chance  I  had  of  extricat- 
ing myself  from  it.  For  the  time,  and  probably  until 
we  reached  Dunquerque,  I  was  safe;  but  what  would 
happen  when  Birkenhead — the  man  whom  the  Jacobites 
called  the  Royal  Post,  and  who  doubtless  knew  Sir  John 
Fen  wick  by  sight — what  would  happen,  I  say,  when  he 
roused  himself,  and  found  that  he  had  not  only  taken 
off  the  wrong  man  but  left  Sir  John  to  his  fate  ?  Would 
he  not  be  certain  to  visit  the  mischance  on  my  head  ?  Or 
if  I  escaped  his  hands,  what  must  I  expect,  a  stranger, 
ashore  in  a  foreign  laud  with  little  money,  and  no  lan- 
guage at  my  command  ?  I  shuddered  at  the  prospect;  yet 
shuddered  more  at  the  thought  of  Birkenhead's  anger; 
so  that  presently  all  my  fore-looking  resolved  itself  into  a 
strenuous  effort  to  put  off  the  evil  day,  and  prolong  by 
lying  still  and  quiet  the  sleep  into  which  he  appeared  to 
have  fallen. 

He  lay  so  close  to  me,  divided  only  by  the  one  board 
on  which  I  reclined,  that  all  the  noises  of  the  ship — the 
creaking  of  the  timbers,  the  wash  of  the  seas  as  they 
32 


338  SERE  WSB  UR  Y 

foamed  along  the  quarter,  and  the  banging  of  blocks  and 
ropes — noises  that  never  ceased,  failed  to  cover  the 
sound  of  his  breathing.  And  this  nearness  to  me,  taken 
with  the  fact  that  I  could  not  see  him,  so  tormented  me 
with  doubt  whether  he  was  awake  or  asleep,  was  recover- 
ing or  growing  worse,  that  more  than  once  I  raised  my 
head  and  listened  until  my  neck  ached.  In  the  twilight 
of  the  cabin  I  could  see  his  cloak  swaying  lazily  on  a 
hook;  on  another  hung  a  belt  with  pistols,  that  slid  this 
way  and  that  with  the  swing  of  the  vessel.  And  pres- 
ently watching  these  and  listening  to  the  regularity  of 
his  breathing,  I  laid  my  head  down  and  did  the  last  thing 
I  proiDosed  to  do  or  should  have  thought  possible;  for  I 
fell  asleep. 

I  awoke  with  a  man's  hand  on  my  shoulder;  and  sat 
up  with  a  start  of  alarm,  a  man's  voice  in  my  ear.  The 
floor  of  the  cabin  slanted  no  longer,  the  cloak  and  sword- 
belt  hang  motionless  on  the  wall;  and  in  j)lace  of  the 
sullen  plash  of  the  waves  and  the  ceaseless  creaking  of 
joists  and  knees,  that  had  before  filled  the  inwards  of  the 
ship,  a  medley  of  shouts  and  cries,  as  shrill  as  they  were 
unintelligible,  filled  the  pauses  of  the  windlass.  These 
things  were,  and  I  took  them  in  and  drew  the  inference, 
that  we  were  in  harbour;  but  mechanically,  for  it  seemed, 
at  the  moment,  that  such  wits  as  terror  left  me  were  in 
the  grasp  of  the  man  who  shook  me  and  swore  at  me  by 
turns;  and  whose  short  hair — for  he  was  wigless — fairly 
bristled  with  rage  and  perplexity, 

"You!  Who  the  devil  are  youV  he  cried,  franti- 
cally. "  What  witchcraft  is  this  ?  Here,  Gill  !  Gill! 
Do  you  hear,  you  tarry  inidding-head  ?  Wiio  is  this  you 
have  put  in  my  cabin  ?  And  where  is  Fen  wick  ? 
Where " 

"Where  is  Sir  John?"  cried  a  voice  somewhat  dis- 
tant, as  if  the  speaker  stooped  to  the  hatchway.  "  He 
is  there,  Mr.  Birkenhead.     I  set  him  there  myself.     And 


SHREWSBURY  339 

between  gentlemen,  such  words  as  those,  Mr.   Birken- 
head  " 

"  As  what?  "  cried  the  man  who  held  me. 

"  As  tarry.     But  never  mind;  between  friends " 

"Friends  be  hanged!"  cried  my  assailant  with  vio- 
lence. "  Who  is  this  fool  ?  That  is  what  I  asked.  And 
you,  have  you  no  tongue?"  he  continued,  glaring  at 
me.     ''  Who  are  you,  and  where  is  Sir  John  Fen  wick  ?  " 

Before  I  could  answer,  the  master,  who  had  descended, 
crowded  himself  into  the  doorway.  "  That  is  Sir  John," 
he  said,  sulkily.     "I  thought  that  you " 

"  This,  Sir  John  ?  "  the  other  exclaimed. 

"  Ay,  to  be  sure." 

"As  much  Sir  John  as  you  are  the  warming-pan !  " 
Birkenhead  retorted;  and  released  me  with  so  much  vio- 
lence that  my  head  rapped  against  the  panels.  "This, 
Sir  John  Fenwick?  "  Aud  then,  "  Oh,  man,  man,  you 
have  destroyed  me,"  he  cried.  "  Where  is  my  reputation 
now  ?  You  have  left  the  real  Simon  Pure  to  be  taken, 
and  brought  off  this — this — you  booby,  you  grinning 
ape,  who  are  you  ?  " 

Trembling,  I  told  him  my  name. 

"  And  Sir  John  ?  "  he  said.     "  Wliere  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  left  him  at  Asliford,"  I  muttered. 

"  It  is  a  lie!  "  he  cried  in  a  voice  that  thrilled  me  to 
the  marrow.  "  You  did  not  leave  him  at  Ashford!  He 
was  with  you  on  the  beach — he  was  with  you  and  you 
deserted  him!  You  left  him  to  be  taken,  and  saved  your- 
self.    You  wretch!     You  Judas!" 

God  knows  by  what  intuition  he  spoke.  For  me,  I 
swear  that  it  was  not  until  that  moment,  not  until  he  had 
put  the  possibility  into  words  that  I  knew — ay,  knew, 
for  that  was  the  only  word,  so  certain  was  I  after  the 
event — that  the  man  who  had  ridden  down  the  beach  and 
called  vainly  on  the  sailors  to  wait,  the  man  from  whom 
we  had  rowed  away  laughing,   taking  with  us  his  last 


340  SHREWSBURY 

hope  of  life,  was  not  Matthew  Smith,  but  Sir  John  Fen- 
wick  !  JSfoiv,  things  which  should  have  opened  my  eyes 
then,  and  had  not,  came  back  to  me.  I  recalled  how  tall 
and  gaunt  the  rider  had  looked  through  the  haze,  and  a 
something  novel  in  his  voice,  and  plaintive  in  his  tone. 
True,  I  had  heard  the  click-clack  of  Smith's  horse's  shoes 
as  clearly  as  I  ever  heard  anything  in  my  life;  but  if  Sir 
John,  alarmed  by  the  sound  of  my  hasty  departure,  and 
fearing  treachery,  had  sallied  out,  and  leaping  on  the 
first  horse  he  found,  had  ridden  after  me,  then  all  was 
clear. 

I  saw  that,  and  cowered  before  the  men's  accusins: 
eyes:  so  that  they  had  been  more  than  Solomons  had  they 
taken  my  sudden  disorder  for  aught  but  guilt — guilt 
brought  home.  For  Birkenhead,  his  rage  was  terrible. 
He  seized  me  by  the  throat,  and  disregarding  my  pitiful 
pleas  that  I  had  not  known,  I  had  not  known,  he  dragged 
me  from  the  berth,  and  made  as  if  he  would  choke  me 
there  and  then  with  his  naked  hands.  Instead,  however, 
he  suddenly  loosed  me.  "  Faugh,"  he  cried;  "  I  will  not 
dirty  my  hands  with  you !  That  such  as  you — ijo^i  should 
be  a  man's  death!  You!  But  you  shall  not  escape. 
Gill,  up  with  him!  Up  with  him  and  to  the  yard-arm. 
String  him  up!  He  shall  swing  before  he  is  an  hour 
older!" 

"In  Dunquerque  harbour?  "  said  the  other. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  the  master.  "  Because,  Mr.  Birken- 
head, I  serve  a  King  de  jure  and  not  de  facto.  That  is 
why  not.     And  if  you  want  another  reason " 

"Well?" 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  His  Majesty  has  raised  you  to 
the  Bench,"  the  master  answered  sturdily. 

"  Oh,  you  have  turned  sea-lawyer,  have  you  ?  " 

"Law  is  law,"  said  the  shipmaster.  "England,  or 
France,  or  the  high  seas. ' ' 


SHREWSBURY  341 

"  And  owling  is  owling!  "  the  other  retorted  with  pas- 
sion. ''And  smuggling,  smuggling!  You  are  a  fine 
man  to  talk!  If  you  will  not  hang  him — as  the}^  will 
liang  Fen  wick,  so  help  me,  never  doubt  it! — what  will 
you  do  with  him  ?  " 

"  Give  my  men  a  bag  of  sand  apiece,  and  let  him  run 
the  gauntlet,"  the  captain  answered,  with  a  phlegm  that 
froze  nie.  "  Trust  me,  sir,  they  will  not  leave  much  of  a 
balance  owing. " 

It  was  terrible  to  see  how  Birkenhead,  vain,  choleric 
and  maddened  by  disappointment,  jumjied  at  the  cruel 
suffgestion.  For  me,  I  shrank  into  the  bunk  into  the 
farthest  corner,  and  cried  for  mercy;  I  might  as  well 
have  cried  to  the  winds.  I  was  hauled  out,  the  woi-d 
passed  up,  and  despite  my  desperate  struggles,  prayers 
and  threats — the  latter  not  unmingled  witli  the  name  of 
Shrewsbury,  which  did  but  harden  them — I  was  dragged 
to  the  foot  of  the  ladder.  Thence  I  was  carried  on  deck, 
wliere,  half-dead  with  fear  and  powerless  in  the  hands  of 
three  stout  seamen,  I  met  none  but  grinning  faces  and 
looks  of  cruel  anticipation.  Few  need  to  be  told  Avith 
what  zest  the  common  herd  flock  to  a  scene  of  cruel  sport, 
how  hard  are  tlieir  bosoms,  how  fiendish  the  pleasure 
which  all  but  the  most  humane  and  thoughtful  take  in 
helpless  suffering.  Small  was  the  chance  that  my  pleas 
of  innocence  and  appeals  for  a  hearing  would  gain  atten- 
tion. All  was  ready,  the  men  bared  their  arms  and 
licked  their  lips,  and  in  a  moment  I  must  have  been  set 
for  the  baiting. 

But  in  certain  circumstances  the  extremity  of  fear  is 
another  name  for  the  extremity  of  daring;  and  the  mas- 
ter, at  this  last  moment  going  to  range  the  crew  in  two 
lines,  and  one  of  the  sailors  who  had  me  in  charge  releas- 
ing me  for  an  instant,  that  he  might  arm  himself  witli  a 
sand-bag,  I  saw  my  opportunity.  With  a  desperate  swing 
I  wrenched  myself    from   the  grasp  of  the  other  men. 


343  SHREWSBURY 

That  done,  a  single  bound  carried  me  to  the  plank  which 
joined  the  deck  to  the  shore.  I  flew  across  it,  swift  as 
the  wind;  and  as  the  whole  crew  seeing  what  had  hap- 
pened broke  from  their  stations  and  with  yells  and 
whoops  of  glee  took  up  the  chase,  I  sprang  on  shore. 
Bursting  recklessly  through  the  fringe  of  idlers  whom 
the  arrival  of  the  ship  had  brought  to  the  water's  edge, 
I  sped  across  the  oiDcn  wliarf,  threaded  a  labyrinth  of 
bales  and  casks,  and  darted  up  the  first  lane  to  which  I 
came. 

Fear  gave  me  wings,  and  I  left  the  wharf  a  score  of 
yards  ahead  of  my  pursuers.  But  the  seamen,  who  had 
taken  up  the  chase  with  the  gusto  of  boys  let  loose  from 
school,  made  up  for  the  lack  of  speed  by  whooping  like 
demons;  and  the  English  among  them  halloing  "Stop 
Thief  !  "  and  the  others  some  French  words  alike  in  im- 
port, the  alarm  went  abreast  of  me.  Fortunately  the 
lane  was  almost  deserted,  and  I  easily  evaded  the  half- 
hearted efforts  to  stop  me,  which  one  or  two  made.  It 
seemed  that  I  should  for  the  }:> resent  get  away.  But  at 
the  last  moment,  at  the  head  of  the  lane  fate  waited  for 
me:  an  old  woman  standing  in  a  doorway — and  who 
made,  as  I  came  up,  as  if  she  was  afraid  of  me — flung  a 
bucket  after  me.  It  fell  in  front  of  me,  I  trod  on  the 
edge  and  fell  Avith  a  shriek  of  pain. 

Before  I  could  rise  or  speak,  the  foremost  of  the  sailors 
came  up  and  struck  me  on  the  head  with  a  sand-bag;  and 
the  others  as  they  arrived  rained  blows  on  me  without 
mercy.  I  managed  to  utter  a  cry,  then  instinctively  cov- 
ered my  head  with  my  arms.  They  belaboured  me  until 
they  were  tired  and  I  almost  senseless;  when,  thinking 
me  dead,  they  went  off  whistling,  and  I  crawled  into  the 
nearest  doorway  and  fainted  away. 


SHREWSBURY  343 


CHAPTEE   XL 

"When  I  recovered  my  senses  I  was  on  my  back  in  one 
of  eighteen  beds,  in  a  long  white-walled  room,  having 
barred  windows,  and  a  vaulted  ceiling.  A  woman,  garbed 
strangely  in  black,  and  with  a  queer  white  cap  drawn 
tight  round  her  face,  leaned  over  me,  and  with  her  finger 
laid  to  her  lips,  enjoined  silence.  Here  and  there  along 
the  wall  were  pictures  of  saints;  and  at  the  end  two  can- 
dles burned  before  a  kind  of  altar.  I  had  an  idea  that  I 
had  been  partly  conscious,  and  had  lain  tossing  giddily 
with  a  burning  head,  and  a  dreadful  thirst  through  days 
and  nights  of  fever.  Now,  though  I  could  scarcely  raise 
my  head,  and  my  brain  reeled  if  I  stirred,  I  was  clear- 
minded,  and  knew  that  the  bone  of  my  leg  was  broken, 
and  that  for  that  reason  I  had  a  bed  to  myself  where 
most  lay  double.  For  the  rest  I  was  so  weak  I  could  only 
cry  in  pure  gratitude  when  the  nun  came  to  me  in  my 
turn,  and  fed  me,  and  plain,  stout,  and  gentle-eyed,  laid 
her  fingers  on  her  lip,  or  smiling,  said  in  her  odd  Eng- 
lish "  Quee-at,  quee-at,  monsieur!  " 

In  face  of  the  blessings  which  the  Protestant  Succes- 
sion, as  settled  in  our  present  House  of  Hanover,  has 
secured  to  these  islands,  it  would  little  become  me  to  find 
a  virtue  in  papistry;  and  my  late  lord,  who  early  saw  and 
abjured  the  errors  of  that  faith,  would  have  been  the  last 
to  support  or  encourage  such  a  thesis.  Notwithstanding 
which,  I  venture  to  say  that  the  devotion  of  these  women 
to  their  calling  is  a  thing  not  to  be  decried,  merely  be- 
cause we  have  no  counterpai-t  of  it,  nor  the  charity  of 
that  hospital,  simply  because  the  burning  of  candles  and 
worshipping  of  saints  alternate  with  the  tendance  of  the 
wretched.  On  the  contrary,  it  seems  to  me  that  were 
such  a  profession,  the  idolatrous  vows  excepted,  grafted 


344  SHREWSBURY 

on  our  Church,  it  might  redound  alike  to  the  credit  of 
religion — which  of  late  the  writings  of  Lord  Bolingbroke 
have  somewhat  belittled — and  to  the  good  of  mankind. 

So  much  with  submission;  nor  will  the  most  rigid  of 
our  divines  blame  me,  when  they  learn  that  I  lay  ten 
weeks  in  the  Maison  de  Dieu  at  Dunquerque,  dependent 
for  everything  on  the  kind  offices  of  those  good  women; 
and  nursed  during  that  long  period  with  a  solicitude  and 
patience  not  to  be  exceeded  by  that  of  wife  or  mother. 
When  I  had  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  leave  my 
bed,  and  move  a  few  yards  on  crutches,  I  was  assisted  to  a 
shady  courtyard,  nestled  snugly  between  the  hospital  and 
the  old  town  wall.  Here,  under  a  gnarled  mulberry  tree 
which  had  sheltered  the  troops  of  Parma,  I  spent  my  time 
in  a  dream  of  peace,  through  which  nuns,  apple-faced  and 
kind-eyed,  flitted  laden  with  tisanes,  or  bearing  bottles 
that  called  for  the  immediate  attention  of  M.  le  Medecin's 
long  nose  and  silver-rimmed  spectacles.  Occasionally 
their  Director  would  seat  himself  beside  me,  and  silently 
run  through  his  office:  or  instruct  me  in  the  French 
tongue,  and  the  evils  of  Jansenism — mainly  by  means  of 
the  snuff-box  which  rarely  left  his  fine  white  hands. 
More  often  the  meagre  apothecary,  young,  yellow,  dry, 
ambitious,  with  a  hungry  light  in  his  eyes,  would  take  an 
English  lesson,  until  the  coming  of  his  superior  routed 
him,  and  sent  him  to  his  gallipots  and  compoundiug 
with  a  flea  in  his  ear. 

Such  were  the  scenes  and  companions  that  attended 
my  return  to  health;  nor,  my  spirits  being  attuned  to 
these,  should  I  have  come  to  seek  or  desire  others,  though 
enhanced  by  my  native  air — a  species  of  inertia,  more 
easily  excused  by  those  who  have  viewed  French  life  near 
at  hand,  than  by  such  as  have  never  travelled — but  for  an 
encounter  as  important  in  its  consequences  as  it  was  un- 
expected, which  broke  the  even  current  of  my  days. 

It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  the  nuns  to  bring  one 


SHREWSBURY  345 

of  my  own  conntiTinen  to  me,  in  the  fond  hope  that  I 
might  find  a  friend.  But  as  these  persons,  froni  the 
nature  of  the  case,  were  invariably  Jacobites,  and  either 
knowiug  something  of  my  story,  thought  me  well  served, 
or  coming  to  examine  me,  shied  at  the  names  of  Mr. 
Brome  and  Lord  Shrewsbury,  such  efforts  had  but  one 
end.  When  I  heard,  therefore,  for  the  fourth  or  fifth 
time  that  a  compatriot  of  mine,  amiable,  and  of  a  vivacity 
tout-d-fait  mar V e ill e use  was  coming  to  see  me,  I  was  as 
far  from  supposing  that  I  should  find  an  acquaintance,  as 
I  was  from  anticipating  the  interview  with  pleasure.  Im- 
agine my  surprise,  therefore,  when  Sa3ur  Marie  called  me 
into  the  garden  at  the  appointed  time;  and,  her  simple 
face  shining  with  delight,  led  me  to  the  old  mulberry 
tree,  where,  who  should  be  sitting  but  Mary  Ferguson! 

She  had  as  little  expected  to  meet  me  as  I  to  meet  her, 
but  coming  on  me  thus  suddenly,  and  seeing  me  lame, 
and  in  a  sense  a  cripple,  reduced,  moreover,  by  the  long 
illness  through  which  I  had  passed,  she  let  her  feelings 
have  way.  Such  tenderness  as  she  had  entertained  for 
me  before  welled  up  now  with  irresistible  force,  and  giv- 
ing the  lie  to  a  certain  hoydenish  hardness,  inherent  in  a 
disposition  which  was  never  one  of  the  most  common,  in 
a  moment  she  was  in  my  arms.  If  she  did  not  weep  her- 
self, she  pardoned,  and  possibly  viewed  with  pleasure, 
those  tears  on  my  jiart,  which  weakness  and  surprise  drew 
from  me,  while  a  hundred  broken  words  and  exclamations 
bore  witness  to  the  gratitude  she  felt  on  the  score  of  her 
escape. 

Thus  brought  together,  in  a  strange  country,  and  agi- 
tated by  a  hundred  memories,  nothing  was  at  first  made 
clear,  except  that  we  belonged  to  one  another,  and  Samr 
Marie  had  long  fled  to  carry  the  tale  with  mingled  glee 
and  horror  into  the  house,  before  we  grew  sufficiently 
calm  to  answer  the  numberless  questions  which  it  occurred 
to  each  to  ask. 


346  SHREWSBURY 

At  length  Mary,  pressed  to  tell  me  how  slie  had  fared 
since  her  escape,  made  one  of  the  odd  faces  I  could  so 
well  remember.  And  "  Not  as  I  would,  but  as  I  could," 
she  said,  dryly.     "  By  crossing  with  letters." 

"  Crossing?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"To  be  sure,"  she  answered.  "I  go  to  and  from  Lon- 
don with  letters." 

"But  should  you  be  taken?"  I  cried,  with  a  vivid 
remembrance  of  the  terror  into  which  the  prospect  of 
punishment  had  thrown  her. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders;  yet  suppressed,  or  I  was 
mistaken,  a  shudder.  Then  "What  will  you?"  she 
said,  spreading  out  her  little  hands  French  fashion,  and 
makiuff  afrain  that  odd  grimace.  "It  is  the  old  story.  I 
must  live,  Dick.  And  what  can  a  woman  do  ?  Will 
Lady  Middleton  take  me  for  her  children's  governante  ? 
Or  Lady  Melfort  find  me  a  place  in  her  household  ?  I 
am  Ferguson's  niece,  a  backstairs  wench  of  whom  no  one 
knows  anything.  If  I  were  handsome  now,  hlen  !  As  I 
am  not — to  live  I  must  risk  my  living." 

"  You  are  handsome  enough  for  me!  "  I  cried. 

She  raised  her  eyebrows,  with  a  look  in  her  eyes  that, 
I  remember,  puzzled  me.  "  AVell,  may  be,"  she  said  a 
trifle  tartly.  "  And  the  other  is  neither  here  nor  there. 
For  the  rest,  Dick,  I  live  at  Captain  Gill's,  and  his  wife 
claws  me  Monday  and  kisses  me  Tuesday." 

"  And  you  have  taken  letters  to  London  ?  "  I  said,  won- 
dering at  her  courage. 

"  Three  times,"  she  answered,  nodding  soberly.  "  And 
to  Tnnbridge  once.     A  woman  passes.     A  man  would  be 

taken.      So  Mr.   Birkenhead  says.      But "  and  with 

the  word  she  broke  oS  abruptly,  and  stared  at  me;  and 
continued  to  stare  at  me,  her  face  which  was  rounder  and 
more  womanly  than  in  the  old  days,  falling  strangely. 

It  wore  such  a  look  indeed,  that  I  glanced  over  my 
shoulder   thinking   that  she   saw   something.      Finding 


I — J^f 


SHE    LISTENED    IN    SILENCE,    STANDING    OVER   ME    WITH    SOMETHING 
OF    THE    SEVERITY    OF   A   JUDGE 


SHREWSBURY  349 

nothing,  "  Mary!  "  I  cried.  "  What  is  it ?  What  is  tlie 
matter?" 

"  Are  you  the  man  who  came  with  Sir  Jolm  Fenwick 
to  the  shore?"  slie  cried,  stepping  back  a  pace — she  had 
already  risen,  "And  betrayed  him?  Dick!  Dick, 
don't  say  it  !  "  she  continued  hurriedly,  liolding  out  lier 
hands  as  if  slie  would  ward  off  my  words.  "  Don't  say 
that  yen  are  that  man!  I  had  forgotten  until  this  mo- 
ment whom  I  came  to  see;  who,  they  said,  was  here." 

Her  words  stung  me,  even  as  her  face  frightened  me. 
But  while  I  winced  a  kind  of  courage,  boru  of  indigna- 
tion and  of  a  sense  of  injustice  long  endured,  came  to  me; 
and  I  answered  her  with  spirit.  "No,"  I  said,  "lam 
not  that  man." 

"No?"  she  cried. 

"  No!  "  I  said  defiantly.  "  If  you  mean  the  man  that 
betrayed  Sir  John  Fenwick.  But  I  will  tell  you  what 
man  I  am — if  you  will  listen  to  me." 

"What  are  yon  going  to  tell  me?"  she  answered,  the 
troubled  look  returning.  And  then,  "  Dick,  don't  lie  to 
me!  "  she  cried  quickly. 

"I  have  no  need,"  I  said.  And  with  that,  beginning 
at  the  beginning,  I  told  her  all  the  story  which  is  written 
here,  so  far  as  it  was  not  already  known  to  her.  She 
listened  in  silence,  standing  over  me  with  something  of 
the  severity  of  a  judge,  until  I  came  to  the  start  from 
London  w4th  Matthew  Smith. 

There  she  interrupted  me.  "  One  moment,"  she  said 
in  a  hard  voice;  and  she  fixed  me  with  keen,  unfriendly 
eyes.  "  You  know  that  Sir  John  Fenwick  was  taken  two 
days  later,  and  is  in  the  Tower?  " 

"I  know  nothing,"  I  said,  holding  out  my  hands  and 
trembling  with  the  excitement  of  my  story,  and  the 
thought  of  my  sufferings. 

"  Not  even  Wt?" 

"No,  nothing;  not  even  that,"  I  said. 


350  SHREWSBURY 

"  Nor  tliat  within  a  month,  in  all  probability,  he  will 
be  tried  and  executed!  " 

"No." 

"Nor  that  your  master  is  in  peril?  You  have  not 
heard  that  Sir  John  has  turned  on  him  and  denounced 
him  before  the  Council  of  the  King?  " 

"  No,"  I  said.     "  How  should  I  ?  " 

"What?"  she  cried  incredulously.  "You  do  not 
know  that  with  which  all  England  is  ringing — though  it 
touches  you  of  all  men  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  ?  "  I  said  feebly.  "Who  would  tell 
me  here?     And  for  weeks  I  have  been  ill." 

She  nodded.     "  Go  on,"  she  said. 

I  obeyed.  I  took  up  the  thread  again,  told  her  how 
we  reached  Ashford,  how  I  saw  Sir  John,  how  I  fled,  and 
how  I  was  pursued;  finally  how  I  was  received  on  board 
the  boat,  and  never,  until  the  following  day,  when  Birk- 
enhead flung  it  in  my  teeth,  guessed  that  I  had  forestalled 
Sir  John,  and  robbed  him  of  his  one  chance  of  escape. 
"For  if  I  had  known,"  I  continued  warmly,  "why 
should  I  fly  from  him  ?  What  had  I  to  fear  from  him  ? 
Or  what  to  gain,  if  Smith  with  a  pistol  were  not  at  my 
heels,  by  leaving  England?  Gain?"  I  continued  bit- 
terly, seeing  that  I  had  convinced  her.  "  AVhat  didl 
gain?  This!  This!"  And  I  touched  my  crijoj^led 
leg. 

"Thank  God!"  she  said,  Avith  emotion.  "Thank 
God,  Dick.     But " 

"  But  what  !  "  I  retorted  sharj^ly;  for  in  the  telling  of 
the  story  I  had  come  to  see  more  clearly  than  before  how 
cruelly  I  had  been  treated.     "  But  what  ?  " 

"  Well,  just  this,"  she  said  gently.  "  Have  you  not 
brought  it  on  yourself  in  a  measure  ?  If  you  had  been 
more — that  is,  I  mean,  if  you  had  not  been  so " 

"  So  what?  "  I  cried  querulously,  seeing  her  hesitate. 

"  Well,  so  quick  to  think  that  it  was  Matthew  Smith — 


SHREWSBURY  351 

and  a  pistol/'  she  answered,  smiling  rather  heartlessly. 
"That  is  all." 

"  There  was  a  mist,"  I  said. 

She  laughed  in  her  odd  way.  "  Of  course,  Dick,  there 
was  a  mist, ' '  she  agreed.  ' '  And  you  cannot  make  bricks 
without  straw.  And  after  all  you  did  make  bricks  in  St. 
James's  Square,  and  it  is  not  for  me  to  find  fault.  But 
there  is  a  thing  to  be  done,  and  it  must  be  done."  And 
her  lips  closed  firmly,  after  a  fashion  I  remembered,  and 
still  remember,  having  seen  it  a  hundred  times  since  that 
day,  and  learned  to  humour  it.  "One  that  must  be 
done!"  she  continued.  "Dick,  you  will  not  leave  the 
Duke  to  be  ruined  by  Matthew  Smith?  You  will  not  lie 
here  and  let  tliose  rogues  work  their  will  on  him  ?  Sir 
John  has  denounced  him." 

"And  may  denounce  me!"  I  said,  aghast  at  the  no- 
tion. "  May  denounce  me,"  I  continued  with  agitation. 
"  Will  denounce  me.  If  it  was  not  the  Duke  who  Avas 
at  Ash  ford,  it  was  1!  " 

"And  who  are  you  ?"  she  retorted,  with  a  look  tliat 
withered  me.  "  Who  will  care  whether  you  met  Sir  .John 
at  Ashford  or  not?  King  William — call  him  Dutchman, 
boor,  drunkard,  as  it's  the  fashion  this  side,  call  him  I 
say  what  you  will — at  least  he  flies  at  high  game,  and 
does  not  hawk  at  mice!  " 

"Mice?" 

"  Ay,  mice!  "  she  answered  with  a  snap  of  her  teeth — 
and  she  looked  all  over  the  little  vixen  she  could  be. 
"For  what  are  we?  What  are  we  now?  Still  more, 
what  are  we  if  we  leave  the  Duke  to  his  euemies,  leave 
him  to  be  ruined  and  disgraced,  leave  him  to  pay  the 
penalty,  while  you,  the  cause  of  all  this,  lie  here — lie  safe 
and  snug?  For  shame,  Dick!  For  shame!"  she  con- 
tinued with  such  a  thrill  iu  iier  voice  that  the  pigeons 
feeding  behind  her  fluttered  up  in  alarm,  and  two  or 
three  nuns  looked  out  inquisitively. 


352  SHREWSBURY 

I  had  my  own  thoughts  and  my  own  feelings  about  my 
lord,  as  he  well  knew  in  after  years.  I  challenge  any  to 
say  that  I  lacked  either  respect  or  affection  for  him. 
But  a  man's  wits  move  more  slowly  than  a  woman's,  and 
the  news  came  on  me  suddenly.  It  was  no  great  wonder 
if  I  could  not  in  a  moment  stomach  the  prospect  of  re- 
turning to  risk  and  jeopardy,  to  the  turmoil  from  which 
I  had  been  so  long  freed,  and  the  hazards  of  a  life  and 
death  struggle.  In  the  political  life  of  twenty  years  ago 
men  carried  their  necks  to  market.  Knowing  that  I 
might  save  the  Duke  and  suffer  in  his  place — the  fate  of 
many  a  poor  dependant;  or  might  be  confronted  with 
Smith ;  or  brought  face  to  face  with  Ferguson ;  or  perish 
before  I  reached  London  in  the  net  in  which  my  lord's 
own  feet  were  caught,  I  foresaw  not  one  but  a  hundred 
dangers;  and  those  such  as  no  prudent  man  could  be 
expected  to  regard  with  equanimity,  or  any  but  a  hare- 
brained girl  would  encounter  with  a  light  heart. 

Still  I  desired  to  stand  well  Avith  her;  and  that  being  so 
I  confess  that  it  was  with  relief  I  remembered  my  lame- 
ness; and  named  it  to  her.  Passing  over  the  harshness 
of  her  last  words,  "You  are  right,"  I  said.  "Some- 
thing should  be  done.  But  for  me  it  is  impossible  at 
present.     I  am  lame,  as  you  see." 

"  Lame  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  More  than  lame,"  I  answered — but  there  was  that  in 
her  tone  which  bade  me  avoid  her  eyes.  "  A  cripple, 
Mary." 

"  No,  not  a  cripple,"  she  answered. 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"  No,  Dick,"  she  answered  in  a  voice  low,  but  so  grave 
and  firm  that  I  winced.  "Let  us  be  frank  for  once. 
Not  a  cripjDle,  but  a  coward." 

"  I  never  said  I  was  a  soldier,"  I  answered. 

"Nor  I,"  she  rei^lied,  wilfully  misunderstanding  me. 
"  I  said,  a  coward!     And  a  coward  I  will  not  marry!  " 


SHREWSBURY  353 

With  that  we  looked  at  one  another:  and  I  saw  that 
her  face  was  white.  "  Was  it  a  coward  saved  your  life — 
in  the  Square?  "  I  muttered  at  last. 

"No,"  she  answered.  ''But  it  was  a  coward  j)layed 
the  sneak  for  Ferguson.  And  a  coward  played  the  rogue 
for  Smith!  It  was  a  coward  lost  Fenwick — because  he 
dare  not  look  behind!  And  a  coward  who  will  now  sac- 
rifice l>is  benefactor,  to  save  his  own  skin.  And  yo7(, 
only  know  in  how  many  other  things  you  have  played  the 
craven.  But  the  rather  for  that,  up,  now,  and  play  the 
man!  You  have  a  chance  now!  Do  this  one  brave 
thing  and  all  will  be  forgiven.  Oh,  Dick,  Dick  !  "  she 
continued— and  with  a  sudden  blaze  in  her  face  she 
stooped  and  threw  her  arms  round  me,  "  if  you  love  me, 
do  it!  Do  it  for  us  both!  Do  it — or  if  you  cannot,  God 
knows  it  were  better  we  were  hung,  than  married!  " 

I  cannot  hope  to  describe  the  fervour,  which  she  threw 
into  these  last  words,  or  the  effect  which  they  wrought  on 
me,  weakened  as  I  was  by  long  illness.  In  a  voice  broken 
by  tears  I  conjured  her  to  give  me  time — to  give  me  time; 
a  few  days  in  which  to  consider  Avhat  I  would  do. 

"Not  a  day!"  she  answered,  springing  from  me  in 
fresh  excitement,  and  as  if  my  touch  burned  her.  "I 
will  give  you  no  time.  You  have  had  a  lifetime,  and  to 
what  purpose  ?  I  will  give  you  no  time.  Do  you  give  me 
your  word." 

"  To  go  to  England  ?  " 

"Yes." 

I  was  ashake  from  head  to  foot;  and  groaned  aloud. 
In  truth  if  I  had  known  the  gallows  to  be  the  certain  and 
inevitable  end  of  the  road,  on  which  I  was  asked  to  enter, 
I  could  not  have  been  more  sorelv  beset;  between  ra'^^e 
and  fear,  and  shame  of  her  and  desire  for  her.  But  while 
I  hung  in  that  misery,  she  continuing  to  stand  over  me, 
I  looked,  as  it  happened,  in  her  face;  and  I  saw  that  it 
was  no  longer  hot  with  auger,  but  sad  and  drawn  as  by  a 

23 


354  SHREWSBURY 

sharp  pain.      And  I  gave  her  my  word,  trembling  and 
shaking. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  are  you  a  brave  man;  and  perhaps 
the  bravest." 


CHAPTER   XLI 

That  the  arrest  of  Sir  John  Fenwick,  reported  in  Lon- 
don on  the  13th  of  June,  was  regarded  by  all  parties  as 
an  event  of  the  first  magnitude,  scarce  exceeded  in  import- 
ance by  a  victory  in  Flanders  or  a  defeat  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean, is  a  thing  not  to  be  denied  at  this  time  of  day; 
when  men,  still  in  their  prime,  can  recall  the  commotion 
occasioned  by  it.  The  private  animosity,  which  was  be- 
lieved to  exist  between  Sir  John  and  the  King,  and  which 
dated,  if  the  gossip  of  Will's  and  Garraway's  went  for 
anything,  not  from  the  slight  which  he  had  put  upon  the 
late  Queen,  but  from  a  much  earlier  period,  when  he  had 
served  under  William  in  Flanders,  aroused  men's  curios- 
ity, and  in  a  sense  their  pity;  as  if  they  were  to  see  here 
the  end  of  a  Greek  drama. 

JSTor,  apart  from  the  public  and  general  interest,  which 
Sir  John's  birth  and  family  connections,  no  less  than  his 
share  in  the  plot,  considerably  augmented,  was  there  any 
faction  which  could  view  his  arrest  with  indifference. 
He  had  been  so  deep  in  the  confidence  of  St.  Germain's 
that  were  he  to  make  a  discovery,  not  Tories  and  Jacobites 
only  lay  at  his  mercy,  but  all  that  large  class  among  the 
Whigs  who  had  stooped  to  palter  with  James.  These,  as 
they  were  the  more  culi^able  had  also  more  to  fear. 
Trembling  at  the  prospect  of  a  disclosure  which  must  con- 
vict them  of  practices  at  variance  with  their  most  solemn 
professions,  they  were  supported  by  none  of  those  senti- 
ments of  loyalty,  honourable  if  mistaken,  which  excused 


SHREWSBURY  355 

the  others;  while  as  each  fondly  thought  his  perfidy  nn- 
kaown  to  his  neighbour,  and  dreaded  nothing  so  much  as 
detection  by  the  rank  and  file  of  the  party,  he  found  the 
burden  of  aj^prehension  weigh  the  more  heavily,  because 
he  had  none  to  share  it  with  him. 

The  absence  of  the  King,  who  was  campaigning  in 
Flanders,  aggravated  the  suspense;  which  prevailed  so 
widely  for  the  reasons  above,  and  others,  that  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  barely  four  politicians  could  be  found 
of  the  first  or  second  rank  who  were  not  nearly  concerned 
in  the  question  of  Sir  John  Fenwick's  silence.  Of  these, 
however,  I  make  bold  to  say  that  my  lord  was  one  ;  and 
though  the  news  that  Sir  John,  who  lay  in  the  Tower, 
had  sent  for  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  may  have  excited 
a  passing  feeling  of  jealousy  in  his  mind — since  he  and 
not  the  other  Duke  was  the  person  to  whom  Sir  John 
might  more  fitly  unbosom  himself — I  am  confident,  and, 
indeed,  had  it  from  his  own  lips,  that  at  this  time  he  had 
no  notion  of  any  danger  threatening  himself. 

His  eyes  were  first  opened  by  the  Earl  of  Marlborough; 
who,  calling  upon  him  one  day,  ostensibly  on  business 
connected  with  the  Princess  Anne  (to  whom  the  King 
had  been  reconciled  before  his  departure),  presently 
named  Sir  John.  From  this  to  the  statement  made  to 
the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  and  the  rumours  of  its  contents 
which  filled  the  coffee-houses,  was  but  a  step.  The  Earl 
seemed  concerned;  my  lord,  in  his  innocence,  sceptical. 

At  length  the  latter  spoke  out  what  was  in  his  mind. 
"To  tell  you  the  truth,  my  lord,"  he  said  frankly,  "'I 
think  it  is  a  mare's  nest.  I  don't  believe  that  any  state- 
ment has  been  made." 

The  Earl  looked  astonished.  "  May  I  ask  why  not?  " 
he  said. 

"Because,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken,"  my  lord  an- 
swered smiling,  "  the  Duke  would  have  brought  it  straight 
to  me.     And  I  have  heard  nothing  of  it." 


356  SHREWSBURY 

"  You  have  not  asked  the  Duke  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not." 

"Bat — he  was  with  Sir  Johu,"  the  Earl  persisted 
steadily.     "  There  is  no  doubt  of  that,  is  there?  " 

"Oh,  no." 

"  Well,  then,  is  not  that  in  itself  strange  ?  " 

"I  think  not,  there  have  always  been  friendly  rela- 
tions," my  lord  continued,  "between  the  Duke  and  Sir 
Johu." 

"  Just  so,"  Lord  Marlborough  answered,  taking  a  pinch 
of  snuff.  "Still,  do  those  relations  warrant  the  Lord 
Steward  in  visiting  him  now  ?  " 

The  Secretary  looked  a  little  startled.  "  Well,  I  don't 
know,"  he  said.  "  But  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's  patri- 
otism is  so  well  established " 

"  That  he  may  steal  the  horse,  while  we  look  over  the 
wall,"  Lord  Marlborough  answered,  taking  him  up  with 
a  smile.  "Be  that  as  it  may,"  he  continued,  "and  I 
am  sure  that  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  Duke  of 
Shrewsbury," — here  the  two  noblemen  bowed  to  one  an- 
other— "I  think  your  Grace's  information  is  somewhat 
faulty  on  this  point.  I  happen  to  know  that  immediately 
after  the  interview  a  special  messenger  left  Devonshire 
House  for  Loo;  and  that  the  Tuatters  he  carried  were  re- 
duced into  writing  by  his  Grace's  owu  hand.  That  being 
so,  Duke,  you  are  better  qualified  to  draw  the  inference 
than  I  am." 

My  lord,  at  that,  looked  grave  and  nodded,  being  con- 
vinced; and  I  do  not  doubt  that  he  felt  the  slight  which 
the  other  Duke's  silence  implied.  But  though,  of  all 
the  men  I  have  ever  met,  he  was  the  most  sensitive,  he 
was  the  last  also,  to  wear  his  heart  on  his  sleeve;  and  not 
only  did  he  refrain  from  complaint  of  his  colleague's 
conduct,  but  he  hastened  to  dispel  by  a  word  or  two  the 
effect  of  his  momentary  gravity.  "  Ah,  then  I  can  guess 
what  happened,"   he  said,  nodding  his  comprehension. 


SHREWSBURY  357 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  Sir  John  made  it  a  term  that  his 
discovery  should  be  delivei'ed  to  the  King  at  first  hand — 
aud  to  no  one  else." 

Lord  ^[arlborough  rose.  "Duke,"  he  said  firmly,  "I 
think  it  is  fair  that  I  should  be  more  frank  with  you. 
The  reason  you  give  is  not  the  reason  they  are  giving  in 
the  cofl'ee-houses — for  the  Lord  Steward's  reticence." 

"  JSTo!-"  said  ni}^  lord,  with  a  faint  note  of  scorn  in  his 
voice. 

"No,"  said  the  Earl.  "'  Ou  the  contrary,  they  say  at 
Will's — and  for  the  matter  of  that  at  the  St.  James's 
too,  that  the  statement  is  kept  close  because  it  touched 
men  in  jiower." 

"  In  power  ?  "  said  my  lord,  with  the  same  note  in  his 
voice.     "  In  the  Council,  do  you  mean  V  " 

"  Yes;  three  men." 

"  Do  they  name  them  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  my  Lord  Marlborough,  smiling. 
"  And  they  join  with  the  three  one  who  is  not  in  power." 

"Ah!" 

"Myself." 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  placid  indifference,  as  natural 
as  it  was  free  from  exaggeration,  which  the  Earl  contrived 
to  throw  into  his  last  word.  Yet  my  lord  started,  and 
shuffled  uneasily  in  his  chair.  Knowing  something,  and 
perhaps  suspecting  more,  aware  of  the  character  which 
his  enemies  attributed  to  Lord  Marlborough,  he  would 
not  have  been  the  statesman  he  was,  if  he  had  not  fan- 
cied an  ulterior  design,  in  an  admission  not  a  little  embar- 
rassing. He  confined  himself,  therefore,  to  a  polite  shrug 
expressive  of  incredulity,  and  to  the  words  "  Credat 
Judoius.'''' 

"Just  so,"  said  Lord  Marlborough,  whose  erudition 
was  not  on  a  par  with  the  marvellous  strategical  powers 
he  has  since  displayed.  "What,  then,  will  your  Grace 
say — to  Ned  Russell  ?  " 


358  SHREWSBURY 

"  The  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty  ?     Is  he  named  ?  " 

"  lu  the  coffee-houses." 

"Ah!" 

"Lord  Godolphiu!" 

"  Impossible!  " 

"Not  so  impossible  as  the  fourth,"  Lord  Marlborough 
answered,  with  a  light  laugh,  in  which  courtesy,  amuse- 
ment, and  a  fine  perception  of  the  ridiculous  were  nicely 
mingled.     "  Can  you  not  guess,  Duke  ?  " 

But  my  lord,  too  prudent  to  suggest  names  in  that  con- 
nection, shook  his  head.  "  Who  could  ?  "  he  said,  raising 
his  eyebrows  scornfully.  "  They  might  as  well  name 
me,  as  some  you  are  mentioning." 

Lord  JMarlborough  laughed  softly.  "  My  very  dear 
Duke,"  he  said,  "  that  is  just  what  they  are  doing!  They 
do  name  you.     You  are  the  fourth." 

I  believe  that  my  lord  had  so  little  expected  the  answer 
that  for  a  sjiace  he  remained,  staring  at  the  speaker,  in 
equal  surprise  and  dismay.  Then  his  indignation  finding 
vent:  "It  is  not  possible!"  he  cried.  "Even  in  the 
coffee-houses!  And  besides,  if  your  story  is  true,  my 
lord,  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  alone  knows  what  Sir  John 
has  discovered,  and  whom  he  has  accused!  " 

Lord  Marlborough  pursed  up  his  lips.  "Things  get 
known — strangely,"  he  said.  "  For  instance,  the  shadow 
which  came  between  your  Grace  and  His  Majesty  in  '90 
— probably  you  supposed  it  to  be  known  to  the  King 
only,  or  if  to  any  besides,  to  Portland  at  most  ?  On  the 
contrary,  there  Avas  scarce  a  knot  of  chatterers  at  Garra- 
way's  but  Avhispered  of  your  dinners  Avith  Middleton,  and 
meetings  with  ]\rontgomery,  watched  for  the  event,  and 
gave  the  odds  on  St.  Germain's  in  guessing." 

The  Earl  spoke  in  his  airiest  manner,  took  snuff  in 
medio,  and  with  a  carelessness  that  none  could  so  well 
affect,  avoided  looking  at  his  hearer.  Nevertheless,  the 
shaft  went  home.      My  lord,  smitten  between  the  Joints 


SHREWSBURY  359 

of  his  harness,  suffered  all  that  a  proud  and  sensitive 
man,  apprised  on  a  sudden  that  his  dearest  secrets  were 
the  J) roper ty  of  the  market-place,  could  suffer;  and  rage 
dissipating  the  composure  which  self-respect  would  fain 
have  maintained,  "  My  lord,  this  is  going  too  far!"  he 
gasped.  "  Who  gave  your  lordship  leave  to — to  touch  on 
a  matter  which  concerns  only  myself?  " 

"Simply  this  later  matter,"  the  Earl  answered  in  a 
plain,  matter-of-fact  tone  that  at  once  sobered  the  Duke, 
and  seemed  to  justify  his  own  interference.  "If  there 
is  anything  at  all  in  this  rumour — if  Sir  John  has  really 
said  anything,  I  take  it  that  the  old  gossip  is  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it." 

The  Duke  stared  before  him  with  a  troubled  face;  and 
did  not  answer.  To  some  it  might  have  seemed  the  most 
natural  course  to  carry  the  war  into  the  informant's 
country,  and  by  a  dry  question  or  a  pregnant  word  suggest 
that  at  least  as  good  grounds  existed  for  the  imputation 
cast  on  him.  But  such  a  line  of  argument  was  beneath 
the  dignity,  which  was  never  long  wanting,  to  my  lord; 
and  he  made  no  attempt  to  disturb  the  other's  equanimity 
or  question  his  triumph.  After  a  time,  however,  "  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  forgot  myself  and  spoke  has- 
tily.    But  he  is  a  most  impudent  fellow!  " 

"Ad d  impudent  fellow,"    the    Earl  cried,   with 

more  fervour  than  he  had  yet  exhibited. 

"And  he  is  playing  an  impudent  game,"  my  lord  con- 
tinued, thoughtfully.     "  But  a  dangerous  one." 

"As  he  will  find  to  his  cost,  before  he  has  done!" 
Lord  Marlborough  answered.  "It  is  cunningly  thought 
of.  If  he  will  save  his  head  he  must  give  up  some  one. 
So,  as  he  will  not  give  up  his  friends  he  will  ruin  his 
enemies;  if  the  King  is  a  fool,  and  can  spare  us." 

"  The  King  is  no  fool!  "  said  the  Duke,  rather  coldly. 
It  was  no  secret  that  between  William  and  Lord  Marlbor- 
ough love  was  not  lost. 


360  SHREWSBURY 

"  Well,  that  may  ha  a  good  thing  for  us  !  "  the  Earl 
answered  lightly.  He  had  not  the  reputation  even  with 
his  friends  of  setting  his  feelings  before  his  interest;  nor 
probably  in  all  England  was  there  a  man  who  looked  out 
on  the  world  with  a  keener  eye  to  benefit  by  the  weak- 
nesses of  men  and  make  profit  of  their  strength. 

I  know  that  it  ill-becomes  one  in  my  station  to  carp  at 
the  great  Duke,  as  men  now  style  him;  though  of  all  his 
greatness,  genius,  and  courage,  there  remains  but  a  poor 
drivelling  childishness,  calling  every  minute  for  a  wo- 
man's tendance.  And  far  am  I  from  giving  voice  or  en- 
couragement to  the  hints  of  those,  who,  hating  him, 
maintain  that  in  future  times  things  incredibly  base  will 
be  traced  to  his  door.  But  truth  is  truth;  that  he  knew 
more  of  the  matter  now  threatening  and  stood  to  lose 
more  by  it  than  my  lord,  I  have  little  doubt;  nor  that 
this  being  so,  the  real  object  of  his  visit  was  to  ensure  the 
solidity  of  the  assailed  phalanx,  and  particularly  to  make 
it  certain  that  the  Secretary,  whose  weight  with  the  King 
was  exceeded  only  by  his  popularity  with  the  party,  should 
not  stand  aloof  from  the  common  hazard. 

Having  attained  this  object,  so  far  as  it  could  be  ob- 
tained in  a  single  interview,  and  finding  that  the  Duke, 
in  spite  of  all  hisefi'orts  to  the  contrary,  continued  moody 
and  distraught,  he  presently  took  his  leave.  But  to  my 
lord's  astonishment,  he  was  announced  again  ten  minutes 
later.     He  re-entered  with  profuse  apologies. 

"I  went  from  your  Grace's  to  the  Venetian  Ambassa- 
dor's on  the  farther  side  of  the  Square,"  he  said. 
"  There  I  heard  it  confidently  stated  that  Goodman,  one 
of  the  two  witnesses  against  Sir  John,  had  absconded. 
Have  you  heard  it,  Duke?  " 

"  No,"  my  lord  answered  with  some  dryness.      ^' And 
I  am  sure  that  it  is  not  true." 
"■  You  would  have  heard  it  ?  " 
''Necessarily." 


SHREWSBURY  361 

"Nevertheless,  and  craving  your  pardon,"  the  Earl 
answered  slowly,  "I  think  tliat  there  is  something  in  it. 
If  he  has  not  been  induced  to  go,  I  fancy  from  what  I 
hear  that  he  is  hesitating." 

"  Then  he  must  be  looked  to." 

"Yet!  were  he  to  go,  you  see — it  would  make  all  the 
difference — to  Sir  John,"  the  Earl  said.  "  There  would 
be  only  Porter;  and  the  Act  requires  two  witnesses." 

My  lord  lifted  his  eyebrows;  that  two  witnesses  were 
required  in  a  case  of  treason  was  too  trite  a  statement  to 
call  for  comment.  Then  seeing  the  other's  drift,  he 
smiled.  "That  were  to  lick  the  platter,  my  lord,  in 
order  to  keep  the  fingers  clean,"  he  said. 

Lord  Marlborough  laughed  airily.  "  AVell  put,"  he 
said,  not  a  whit  abashed.  "' So  it  would.  You  are  right, 
Duke,  as  you  always  are.  But  I  have  detained  you  too 
long."  With  which,  and  another  word  of  apology,  he 
took  his  leave  a  second  time. 

That  he  left  an  unhappy  man  behind  him,  none  can 
doubt,  who  knew  the  Duke's  sensitive  nature,  and  respect 
for  his  high  position  and  dignity.  To  find  that  the  weak- 
ness, venial  and  casual,  of  which  he  had  been  guilty  years 
before  in  stooping  to  listen  to  Lord  Middleton's  solicita- 
tions— a  fault  which  he  had  fancied  known  only  to  the 
King  and  by  hira  forgiven — to  find  that  this  was  the 
property  of  the  public,  was  burden  enough;  but  to  learn 
that  on  this  was  to  be  founded  a  fresh  charge,  for  the 
proper  refutation  of  which  the  past  must  be  raked  up, 
was  torture  intolerable.  Li  a  fine  sense  of  the  ridiculous, 
my  lord  excelled  any  man  of  his  time;  he  could  feather 
therefore  out  of  his  own  breast  the  shafts  of  evil  that 
would  be  aimed  at  the  man,  who,  one  of  the  seven  to 
bring  over  William  in  '88,  had  stooped  in  '89  to  listen  to 
the  Exile !  lie  could  see  more  clearly  than  any  all  the  in- 
consistency, all  the  folly,  all  the  weakness  of  the  course, 
to  which  he  had,  not  so  much  committed  himself,  as  been 


363  SHREWSBURY 

tempted  to  commit  himself.  The  Minister  unfaithful, 
the  patriot  importuned,  were  parts  in  which  he  saw  him- 
self exposed  to  the  town,  to  the  sallies  of  Tom  Brown, 
and  the  impertinences  of  Ned  Ward;  nay,  in  proportion 
as  he  appreciated  the  grandeur  of  honest  rehellion,  of 
treason,  open  and  declared,  he  felt  shame  for  the  pettiness 
of  the  part  he  had  himself  played,  a  waverer  when 
trusted,  and  a  palterer  when  in  power. 

Such  reflections  weighed  on  him  so  heavily  that  though 
one  of  the  proudest  and  therefore  to  those  below  him 
one  of  the  most  courteous  and  considerate  of  men,  he 
could  scarcely  bring  himself  to  face  his  subordinates, 
when  the  hour  came  for  him  to  attend  the  office.  Sir 
John  Trumball  still  deferred  to  him,  Mr.  Vernon  still 
bowed  until  the  curls  of  his  wig  hid  his  stout  red  cheeks, 
the  clerks  where  he  came  still  rose,  pale,  smug,  and  sub- 
missive, in  his  honour.  But  he  fancied — quite  falsely — 
something  ironical  in  this  respect;  he  pictured  nods  and 
heard  words  behind  his  back;  and  suspecting  the  talk, 
which  hushed  at  his  entrance  rose  high  on  his  departure, 
to  be  at  his  exjiense,  he  underwent  a  score  of  martyrdoms 
before  he  returned  to  St.  James's  Square. 

Meanwhile  the  absence  of  the  King  aggravated  his 
position;  firstly,  by  depriving  him  of  the  only  confidant 
his  pride  permitted  him;  secondly,  by  adding  to  his 
troubles  the  jealousies  which  invariably  attend  govern- 
ment by  a  Council.  Popularly  considered,  he  was  first 
Minister  of  the  Crown,  and  deepest  in  the  King's  confi- 
dence. But  the  knowledge  that  one  of  his  colleagues 
withheld  a  matter  from  him,  and  was  in  private  commu- 
nication with  William  in  respect  to  it,  was  not  rendered 
less  irksome  by  the  suspicion,  amounting  almost  to  a  cer- 
tainty, that  his  own  concern  in  the  business  was  that  of  a 
culprit.  This  it  was  which  first  and  most  intimately 
touched  his  dignity;  and  this  it  was  which  at  the  end 
of  a  fortnight  of  suspense  drove  him  to  a  desperate  reso- 


SHREWSBURY  363 

lution.  He  would  broach  the  matter  to  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire;  and  learu  the  best  and  the  worst  of  it. 

Desiring  to  do  tliis  in  a  manner  the  least  formal  he  took 
occasion  to  dismiss  his  coach  at  the  next  Council  meeting, 
and  telling  the  Duke  that  he  wished  to  mention  a  matter 
to  him,  he  begged  a  seat  in  his  equipage.  But  whether 
the  Lord  Steward  foresaw  what  was  coming  and  parried 
the  subject  discreetly,  or  my  lord's  heart  failed  him,  they 
reached  the  Square,  and  notbing  said,  except  on  general 
topics.  There,  my  lord's  people  coming  out  to  receive 
them,  it  seemed  natural  to  ask  the  Duke  of  Devonshire 
to  enter;  but  my  lord,  instead,  begged  the  Duke  to  drive 
him  round  and  round  a  while;  and  when  they  were  again 
started,  "  I  have  not  been  well  lately,"  he  said — which 
was  true,  more  than  one  having  commented  on  it  at  the 
Council  Table — "and  I  wished  to  tell  you,  that  I  fear  I 
shall  find  it  necessary  to  go  into  the  country  for  a  time." 

"  To  Roehampton?  "  said  his  companion,  after  a  word 
or  two  of  regret. 

''No,  to  Eyford." 

For  a  moment  his  Grace  of  Devonshire  was  silent;  and 
my  lord  without  looking  at  him  had  the  idea  that  he  was 
startled.  At  length  as  the  coach  went  by  London  House, 
"  I  would  not  do  that — just  at  this  time,"  he  said,  quietly. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  my  lord. 

"  Because — ■well,  for  one  thing,  the  King's  service  may 
suffer." 

"That  is  not  your  reason!"  quoth  my  lord,  stub- 
bornly.    "  You  are  thinking  of  the  Fenwick  matter." 

Again  the  other  Duke  delayed  his  answer:  but  when  he 
spoke  his  voice  was  both  kind  and  earnest.  "  Frankly,  I 
am,"  he  said.  "  If  you  know  so  much,  Duke,  you  know 
that  it  would  have  an  ill-appearance." 

"How?"  said  my  lord.  "Let  me  tell  you  that  all 
Sir  John  knows  or  can  know,  the  King  knows — and  has 
known  for  some  time." 


364  SHREWSBURY 

This  time  there  was  no  doubt  that  the  Lord  Steward 
was  startled.  "You  cannot  mean  it,  Duke,"  he  said, 
in  a  constrained  voice,  and  with  a  gesture  of  reproach. 
"  You  cannot  mean  that  it  was  with  his  Majesty's  knowl- 
edge you  had  a  meeting  with  Sir  John,  he  being  outlawed 
at  the  time  and  under  ban  ?  That  were  to  make  His 
]\[ajesty  at  best  an  abettor  of  treason;  and  at  worst  a 
viler  thing!  For  to  incite  to  treason  and  then  to  perse- 
cute the  traitor — but  it  is  impossible!  " 

"  I  have  not  the  least  notion  what  your  Grace  means," 
my  lord  said,  in  a  freezing  tone.  "What  is  this  folly 
about  a  meeting  with  Sir  John  ?  " 

The  Duke  of  Devonshire  was  as  jiroud  as  my  i)atron; 
and  nothing  in  the  great  mansion  whicli  he  was  then 
building  in  the  wilds  of  the  Derbyshire  Peak  was  likely  to 
cause  the  gaping  peasants  more  astonishment  than  he  felt 
at  this  setback.  "  I  don't  understand  your  Grace,"  he 
said,  at  last,  in  a  tone  of  marked  offence. 

"Nor  I  you,"  my  lord  answered,  thoroughly  roused. 

"I  am  afraid — I  have  said  too  much,"  said  the  other, 
stiffly. 

"  Or  too  little,"  my  lord  retorted.  "  You  must  go  on 
now." 

"  Must?  Must?  "  quoth  tlie  Duke,  whose  high  spirit 
had  ten  years  before  led  him  to  strike  a  blow  that  came 
near  to  costing  him  his  estate. 

"Ay,  must — in  justice,"  said  my  lord.  "In  justice 
to  me  as  well  as  to  others." 

After  a  brief  pause,  "  That  is  another  thing,"  answered 
the  Lord  Steward  civilly.  "But — is  it  possible,  Duke, 
that  you  know  so  much,  and  do  not  know  that  Sir  John 
asserts  that  you  met  him  at  Ash  ford  two  days  only 
befoi'e  his  cai)ture,  and  entrusted  him  with  a  ring  and  a 
message — both  for  St.  Germain's?" 

"At  Ashford?" 

"Yes." 


SHREWSBURY  3G5 

"  This  is  sheer  madness,"  my  lord  cried,  holding  his 
hand  to  his  head.  "Are  you  mad,  Devonshire,  or  am 
I?" 

Whether  the  Duke,  having  heard  Sir  John's  story  and 
marked  his  manner  of  telling  it,  had  prejudged  the 
cause,,  or  thought  that  my  lord  over-acted  surprise,  he  did 
not  immediately  answer;  and  when  he  did  speak,  his 
tone  was  dry,  though  courteous.  "  "Well,  of  course — it 
may  be  Sir  John  who  is  mad,"  he  said. 

"  D n  Sir  John,"  my  lord  answered,  sitting  up  in 

the  coach  and  fairly  facing  his  companion.  '"  You  do 
not  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  believe  this  story  of  a  cock 
and  a  bull,  and  a — a " 

"A  ring,"  said  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  quietly. 

"Well?" 

"Well,  Duke,  it  is  this  way,"  the  Lord  Steward  re- 
plied. "Sir  John  has  something  to  say  about  tliree 
others.  Lord  jSIarlborough,  Ned  Eussell,  and  Godolphin. 
And  what  he  says  about  them  I  know  in  the  main  to  be 
true.     Therefore " 

"You  infer  that  he  is  telling  the  truth  about  me?" 
cried  my  lord,  fuming,  yet  covering  his  rage  with  a  de- 
cent appearance  since  a  hundred  eyes  were  on  them  as 
they  drove  slowly  round  in  the  glass  coach. 

"  Not  altogether.     There  are  other  things." 

"What  other  things?" 

"  The  talk  there  was  about  your  Grace  and  Middleton 
at  the  time  of  your  resignation." 

My  lord  groaned.  "All  the  world  knows  that,  it 
seems,"  he  said.  "  And  should  know  that  I  have  never 
denied  it." 

"True." 

"  But  this!  It  is  the  most  absurd,  the  most  ridiculous, 
the  most  fantastical  story  !  How  could  I  go  out  of  town 
for  twenty-four  hours,  and  the  fact  not  be  known  to  half 
London  ?     Let  Sir  John  name  the  day." 


366 


SHREWSBURY 


"  He  lias,"  the  other  Duke  answered.  "  He  lays  it  on 
the  tenth  of  June." 

"Well?" 

"There  was  a  Land  Bank  meeting  of  the  Council  on 
that  day.     But  your  Grace  did  not  attend  it." 


HE   SHUT   HIMSELF   IN   WITH    HIS   TROUBLE 

"  No  ?  No,  I  remember  I  did  not.  It  was  the  day 
my  mother  was  taken  ill.  She  sent  for  me,  and  I  lay  at 
her  house  that  night  and  the  next." 

His  Grace  of  Devonshire  coughed.  "  That  is  unfor- 
tunate,"   he   said,    and   leaned   forward   to  bow   to  the 


SHREWSBURY  367 

Bishop  of  London,  whose  chariot  had  just  entered  the 
Square. 

"Why?  "  said  my  lord,  ready  to  take  offence  at  anything. 

"  Because,  though  I  do  not  doubt  your  word,  the 
world  will  require  witnesses.  And  Lady  Shrewsbury's 
household  is  suspect.  Her  Jacobite  leanings  are  known, 
and  her  people's  evidence  would  go  for  little.  That  that 
should  be  the  day — but  there,  there,  your  Grace  must  take 
courage,"  the  Duke  continued  kindly.  "All  that  the 
party  can  do  will  be  done.  Within  the  week  Lord  Port- 
land will  be  here  bringing  his  Majesty's  commands,  and 
we  shall  then  know  Avhat  he  proposes  to  do  about  it.  If 
I  know  the  King,  and  I  think  I  do " 

But  the  picture  which  these  words  suggested  to  my 
lord's  mind  was  too  much  for  his  equanimity.  To  know 
for  certain  that  the  King,  who  had  extended  indulgence 
to  him  once,  was  in  jjossession  of  this  new  accusation,  and 
perhaps  believed  it,  that  was  bad  enough.  But  to  hear 
that  Portland  also  was  in  the  secret,  and  grim,  faithful 
Dutchman  as  he  was,  might  presently,  in  support  of  the 
low  opinion  of  English  fidelity  which  he  held,  quote  him, 
the  first  Minister  of  England,  was  too  much!  In  a  hoarse 
voice  he  cut  the  Duke  short,  asking  to  be  set  down  be- 
fore they  quarrelled;  and  his  Grace,  hastening  with  a 
hurried  word  of  sympathy  to  comply,  my  lord  stepped 
out,  and  looking  neither  to  right  nor  left,  passed  into  the 
house,  and  to  the  library,  where,  locking  the  door,  he 
shut  himself  in  with  his  trouble. 


CHAPTER   XLII 

I  HAVE  commonly  reckoned  it  among  my  lord's  great- 
est misfortunes  that  in  a  crisis  of  his  aliairs  which  de- 


368  SHREWSBURY 

manded  all  the  assistance  that  friendship,  the  closest  and 
most  intimate  could  aSord,  he  had  neither  wife  nor  child 
to  whom  he  could  turn,  and  from  whom,  without  loss  of 
dignity,  he  might  receive  comfort  and  support.  He  was 
a  solitary  man;  separated  from  such  near  relations  as  he 
had,  by  differences  as  well  religious  as  political,  and  from 
the  world  at  large  by  the  grandeur  of  a  position  which 
imposed  burdens  as  onerous  as  the  privileges  it  conferred 
were  rare. 

To  a  melancholy  habit,  which  some  attributed  to  the  sad 
circumstances  attendant  on  his  father's  death,  and  others 
to  the  change  of  faith,  which  he  had  been  induced  to  make 
on  reaching  manhood,  he  added  a  natural  shyness  and 
reserve,  qualities  which,  ordinarily  veiled  from  obserA\a- 
tion  by  manners  and  an  address  the  most  charming  and 
easy  in  the  world,  were  none  the  less  obstacles,  where 
friendship  was  in  question.  Not  that  of  friendship  there 
was  much  among  the  political  men  of  that  day,  the  perils 
and  uncertainties  of  the  time  inculcated  a  distrust,  which 
was  only  overcome  where  blood  or  marriage  cemented  the 
tie — as  in  the  case  of  Lords  Sunderland,  Godolphin,  and 
Marlborough,  and  again  of  the  Russells  and  Cavendishes. 
But,  be  that  as  it  may,  my  lord  stood  outside  these  bonds, 
and  enjoyed  and  rued  a  splendid  isolation.  As  if  already 
selected  by  fortune  for  that  strange  combination  of  great 
posts  with  personal  loneliness,  which  was  to  be  more  strik- 
ingly exhibited  in  the  death-chamber  of  her  late  Majesty 
Queen  Anne,  he  lived,  whether  in  his  grand  house  in 
St.  James's  Square,  or  at  Eyford  among  the  Gloucester- 
shire Wolds,  as  much  apart  as  any  man  in  London  or  in 
England. 

Withal,  I  know,  men  called  him  the  King  of  Hearts. 
But  the  popularity,  of  which  that  title  seemed  the  sign 
and  seal,  was  factitious  and  unreal;  born,  while  they 
talked  with  him,  of  his  spontaneous  kindness  and  bound- 
less address;  doomed  to  perish  an  hour  later,  of  spite  and 


SERE  WSB  UR  Y  369 

envy,  or  of  sheer  inanitiou.  Since  the  Duke  was  sensi- 
tive, over-proud  for  intimacy,  flattered  no  man,  and  gave 
no  man  confidences. 

Such  an  one  bade  fair,  when  in  trouble,  to  eat  out  his 
heart.  Prone  to  fancy  all  men's  hands  against  him,  he 
doubled  the  shame  and  outdid  the  most  scandalous.  So 
far,  indeed,  was  he  from  deriving  comfort  from  things 
that  would  have  restored  such  men  as  my  Lord  Marlbor- 
ough to  perfect  self-respect  and  composure,  that  I  believe, 
and  in  fine  had  it  from  himself,  that  the  letter  which  the 
King  wrote  to  him  from  Loo  (and  which  came  to  his 
hands  through  Lord  Portland's,  three  days  after  the  in- 
terview with  his  Grace  of  Devonshire)  pained  him  more 
sensibly  tlian  all  that  had  gone  before. 

"  You  may  judge  of  my  astonishment,"  His  Majesty 
wrote,  "  at  his  effrontery  in  accusing  you.  You  are,  I 
trust,  too  fully  convinced  of  the  entire  confidence  which 
I  place  in  you  to  think  that  such  stories  can  make  any 
impression  on  me.  You  will  observe  this  honest  man's 
sincerity,  who  only  accuses  those  in  my  service,  and  not 
one  of  his  own  jmrty." 

It  will  be  understood  that  that  in  His  Majesty's  letter 
which  touched  my  lord  home  was  less  the  magnanimity 
displayed  in  it  than  the  remembrance  that  once  before 
the  Sovereign  had  dealt  with  the  subject  in  the  same 
spirit,  and  that  now  the  world  must  know  this.  Of  the 
immediate  accusation,  with  all  its  details  of  time  and  cir- 
camstance,  he  thought  little,  believing,  not  only  that  the 
truth  must  quickly  sweep  it  away,  but  that  in  the  mean- 
time few  would  be  found  so  credulous  as  to  put  faith  in  it. 
But  he  saw  with  painful  clearness  that  the  charge  would 
rub  the  old  sore  and  gall  the  old  raw;  and  he  winced, 
seated  alone  in  his  library  in  the  silence  of  the  house,  as 
if  the  iron  already  seared  the  living  flesh.  With  throes  of 
shame  he  foresaw  what  staunch  Whigs,  such  as  Somers 
and  Wharton,  would  say  of  him;  what  the  Posfboi/  and 
24 


370  SHREWSBURY 

the  Courant  would  print  of  him;  what  the  rank  and  file 
of  the  party — exposed  to  no  danger  in  the  event  of  a  Res- 
toration, and  consequently  to  few  temptations  to  make 
their  peace  abroad — would  think  of  their  trusted  leader, 
when  they  learned  the  truth. 

On  Marlborough  and  Russell,  Godolphin  and  Sunder- 
land, the  breath  of  suspicion  had  blown:  on  him  never, 
and  he  had  held  his  head  high.  How  could  he  meet 
them  now  ?  How  could  he  face  them  ?  Nay,  if  that 
were  all,  how,  he  asked  himself,  could  he  face  the  honest 
Nonjuror?  Or  the  honest  Jacobite?  Or  the  honest 
Tory  ?  He,  who  had  taken  the  oaths  to  the  new  govern- 
ment and  broken  them,  who  had  set  up  the  new  govern- 
ment and  deceived  it,  who  had  dubbed  himself  patriot — 
cui  bono  9  Presently  brooding  over  it,  he  came  to  think 
that  there  was  but  one  man  in  England,  turpissi7nus ; 
that  it  would  be  better  in  the  day  of  reckoning  for  the 
meanest  carted  pickpocket,  whose  sentence  came  before 
him  for  revision,  than  for  the  King's  Secretary  in  his 
garter  and  robes  ! 

Nor,  if  he  had  known  all  that  was  passing,  and  all  that 
was  being  said,  among  those  with  whom  his  fancy  pain- 
fully busied  itself,  would  he  have  been  the  hajipier.  For 
Sir  John's  statement  got  abroad  with  marvellous  quick- 
ness. Before  Lord  Portland  arrived  from  Holland  the 
details  w^ere  whispered  in  every  tavern  and  coffee-house 
within  the  Bills.  The  Tories  and  Jacobites,  aiming 
above  everything  at  finding  a  counterblast  to  the  Assas- 
sination Plot,  the  discovery  of  which  had  so  completely 
sapped  their  credit  with  the  nation,  pounced  on  the  scan- 
dal with  ghoulish  avidity,  and  repeated  and  exaggerated 
it  on  every  occasion.  Every  Jacobite  house  of  call,  from 
the  notorious  Dog  in  Drury  Lane,  the  haunt  of  mumpers 
and  foot-jiads,  to  the  Chocolate  House  in  St.  James's 
rang  with  it.  For  Sir  John,  all  (they  said  among  them- 
selves) that  they  had  expected  of  him  was  surpassed  by 


SHREWSBURY  371 

this.  He  was  extolled  to  the  skies  alike  for  what  he  had 
done  and  for  what  he  had  not  done;  and  as  mncli  for  the 
wit  that  had  confounded  his  enemies  as  for  the  courage 
that  had  protected  his  friends.  For  what  Jacobite,  seeing 
the  enemy  hoist  with  his  own  petard  could  avoid  a 
snigger?  Or  hear  the  word  Informer  without  swearing 
that  Sir  John  was  the  most  honest  man  who  ever  signed 
his  name  to  a  deposition. 

The  Whigs  on  the  other  hand,  exasperated  by  an  attack 
as  subtle  as  it  was  unforeseen,  denied  the  charges  with  a 
passion  and  fury  that  of  themselves  betrayed  apprehen- 
sion. Here,  they  said,  was  another  Taafe;  suborned  by 
the  same  gang  and  the  same  vile  machinations  that  had 
brought  about  the  Lancashire  failure,  and  hounded 
Trenchard  to  his  death.  Not  content  with  threatening 
Sir  John  with  the  last  penalties  of  treason  and  felony, 
and  filling  the  Eose  Tavern  with  protestations,  which 
admitted  the  weight  while  they  denied  the  truth  of  the 
charges  brought  against  their  leaders,  the  party  called 
aloud  for  meetings,  enquiries,  and  prosecutions;  to  which 
the  leaders  soon  found  themselves  pledged,  whether  they 
would  or  no. 

My  lord  out  of  sensitiveness,  or  that  over-appreciation 
of  what  was  due  to  himself  and  others  which  in  a  degree 
unfitted  him  for  public  life,  had  a  week  before  this, 
pleading  indisposition,  begun  to  keep  the  house;  and  to 
all  requests  proffered  by  his  colleagues  that  he  would  take 
part  in  their  deliberations,  returned  a  steadfast  negative. 
This  notwithstanding,  everything  that  was  done  was 
communicated  to  him;  and  announcements  of  the  meet- 
ings, which  it  was  now  proposed  to  hold — one  at  Lord 
Somers'  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  and  the  other  at  Admi- 
ral Russeirs — would  doubtless  have  been  made  to  him 
within  the  hour.  As  it  chanced,  however,  he  received 
the  news  from  another  source.  On  the  day  of  the  de- 
cision, as  he  sat  alone,  dwelling  gloomily  on  the  past,  the 


372  SHREWSBURY 

Square  was  roused  at  the  quietest  time  of  the  forenoon 
by  an  arrival.  With  a  huge  chitter,  the  Countess's  glass 
chariot,  with  its  outriders,  running  footmen,  and  lolling 
waiting- women,  rolled  up  to  the  door;  and  in  a  moment 
my  lady  was  announced. 

It  is  probable  that  there  was  no  oue  whom  he  had  less 
wish  to  see.  But  he  could  not  deny  himself  to  her;  and 
he  rose  with  an  involuntary  groan.  The  Countess  on  her 
side  was  in  no  better  temper,  as  her  first  words  indicated. 
"  My  life,  my  lord,  what  is  this  I  liear,"  she  cried  roundly, 
as  soon  as  the  door  closed  upon  her.  "That  you  are 
lying  down  to  be  trodden  on!  And  cannot  do  this, 
and  will  not  do  that,  but  pule  and  cry  at  home  while 
they  spin  a  rope  for  you!  Sakes,  man,  play  the  one 
side,  play  the  other  side— which  you  please!  But  play 
it!  play  it!" 

My  lord,  chagrined  as  much  by  the  intrusion  as  by  the 
reproach,  answered  her  with  more  spirit  than  he  was  wont 
to  use  to  her.  "I  thought,  Madam,"  he  answered 
sharply,  "  that  the  one  thing  you  desired  was  my  with- 
drawal from  public  life  ?  " 

"x\y,  but  not  after  this  fashion!  "  she  retorted,  strik- 
ing her  ebony  cane  on  the  floor  and  staring  at  him,  her 
reddled  face  and  huge  curled  wig  trembling.  "  If  all  I 
hear  be  true — and  I  hear  that  they  are  going  to  hold  two 
inquests  on  you — and  you  continue  to  sit  here,  it  will 
be  a  fine  withdrawal!      You  will  be  doomed  by  James 

and  blocked   by  William,  aud  that  d d  rogue  John 

Churchill  will  wear  your  clothes!  Withdrawal  say  you? 
No,  if  von  had  withdrawn  six  months  ago  when  I  bade 
you,  you  would  have  gone  and  been  thanked.  But  now, 
the  fat  is  in  the  fire,  and,  wanting  courage,  you'll  frizzle, 
my  lad." 

"  And  whom  have  I  to  thank  for  that,  Madam  ?  "  he 
asked,  with  bitterness. 

"  Whv,  yourself,  booby!  "  she  cried. 


SHREWSBURY  373 

*' No,  Madam,  your  friends!  "  lie  replied — which  was 
so  true  aud  hit  the  mark  so  exactly  that  my  lady  looked 
rather  foolish  for  a  moment.  Without  noticing  the 
change,  however,  "Your  friends.  Madam,"  he  continued, 
"Lord  Middletou  and  Sir  John  Fen  wick,  and  Mont- 
gomery, and  the  rest,  whom  you  have  never  ceased  press- 
ing me  to  join !  Who  unable  to  win  me  will  now  ruin  me. 
But  yoU  are  right.  Madam.  I  see,  for  myself  now,  that 
it  is  not  possible  to  play  against  them  with  clean  hands, 
and  therefore  I  leave  the  game  to  them." 

"  Pack  of  rubbish!  "  she  cried. 

"It  is  not  rubbish.  Madam,  as  you  will  find,"  he  an- 
swered coldly.  "  You  say  they  will  hold  two  inquests  on 
me  ?  There  will  be  no  need.  Within  the  week  my  resig- 
nation of  all  my  posts  will  be  in  the  King's  hands." 

"And  you?" 

"And  I,  Madam,  shall  be  on  my  way  to  Eyford." 

Now  there  is  nothing  more  certain  than  that  for  a  year 
past  the  Countess  had  strained  every  nerve  to  detach  the 
Duke  from  the  Government,  with  a  view  to  his  reconcili- 
ation with  King  James  and  St.  Germain's.  But,  having 
her  full  share  of  a  mother's  pride,  she  was  as  far  from 
wishing  to  see  him  retire  after  this  fashion  as  if  she  had 
never  conceived  the  notion.  Aud  to  this  the  asperity  of 
her  answer  bore  witness.  "To  Eyford?"  she  cried, 
shrilly.  "  More  like  to  Tower  Hill !  Or  the  Three 
Trees  and  a  thirteenha'penny  fee — for  that  is  your  meas- 
ure! God,  my  lad,  you  make  me  sick!  You  make  me 
sick!  "  she  continued,  her  wrinkled  old  face  distorted  by 
the  violence  of  her  rage,  and  her  cane  going  tap-a-tap  in 
her  half-palsied  hand.  "  That  a  son  of  mine  should  lack 
the  spirit  to  turn  on  these  pettifoggers!  " 

"  Your  friends,  Madam,"  he  said  remorselessly. 

"These  perts  and  start-ups!  But  you  are  mad,  man! 
You  are  mad,"  she  continued.  "  Mad  as  King  Jamie  was 
when  he  fled  the  country — and  who  more  glad  than  the 


374  SHREWSBURY 

Dutcliman!  And  as  it  was  with  him  so  it  will  be  with 
you.  They  will  strip  you,  Charles.  They  will  strip  you 
bare  as  you  were  born!  And  the  end  will  be,  you'll  lie 
with  Ailesbury  in  the  Tower,  or  bed  with  Tony  Hamilton 
in  a  garret — la  has  !  ' ' 

"  Which  is  precisely  the  course  to  which  you  have  been 
pressing  me,"  he  replied  with  something  of  a  sneer. 

"  Ay,  Avith  a  full  purse!  "  she  screamed.  "  With  a  full 
purse,  fool!  With  Eyford  and  fifty  thousand  guineas, 
my  lad!  But  go,  a  beggar,  as  you'll  go,  and  it  is  wel- 
come you'll  be — to  the  doorkey  and  the  kennel,  or  like 
enough  to  King  Louis'  Bastile!  Tell  me,  man,  that 
this  is  all  nonsense!  That  you'll  show  your  face  to  your 
enemies,  go  abroad  and  be  King  again!  " 

My  lord  answered  gravely  that  his  mind  was  quite  made 
up. 

''  To  go  ?  "  she  gasped.  "To  go  to  Eyford  ?  "  And 
raising  her  stick  in  her  shaking  hand,  she  made  a  gesture 
so  menacing  that,  fearing  she  would  strike  him,  my  lord 
stepped  back. 

Nevertheless,  he  answered  her  firmly.  "  Yes,  to 
Eyford.     My  letter  to  the  King  is  already  written." 

"Then  that  for  you,  and  your  King!"  she  shrieked; 
and  in  an  excess  of  uncontrolled  passion,  she  whirled  her 
stick  round  and  brought  it  down  on  a  stand  of  priceless 
Venice  crystal  which  stood  beside  her;  being  the  same 
that  Seigniors  Soranzo  and  Venier  had  presented  to  the 
Duke  in  requital  of  the  noble  entertainment  which  my 
lord  had  given  to  the  Venetian  Ambassadors,  the  April 
preceding.  The  blow  shivered  the  vases,  which  fell  in  a 
score  of  fragments  to  the  floor;  but  not  content  with  the 
ruin  she  had  accomplished,  the  Countess  struck  fiercely 
again  and  again.  "  There's  for  you,  you  poor  speechless 
fool !"  she  continued.  "  That  a  son  of  mine  should  lie 
down  to  his  enemies!  There  was  never  Brudenel  did  it. 
But  your  father,  he  too  was  a " 


SHREWSBURY  375 

"Madam!"  he  said,  taking  her  up  grimly.  "I  will 
not  hear  you  on  that!  " 

"Ay,  but  you  shall  hear  me!  "  she  screamed,  and  yet 
more  soberly.     "  He,  too,  was  a " 

''Silence!"  he  said;  and  this  time,  low  as  his  voice 
rang,  ay,  and  though  it  trembled,  it  stilled  her.  "  Si- 
lence, Madam,"  he  repeated,  "or  you  do  that,  which 
neither  the  wrong  you  wrought  so  many  years  ago  to  him 
you  miscall,  nor  those  things  common  fame  still  tells  of 
you,  nor  differences  of  creed,  nor  differences  of  party, 
have  prevailed  to  effect.  Say  more  of  him,"  he  contin- 
ued, "and  we  do  not  meet  again,  my  lady.  For  I  have 
this  at  least  from  you — that  I  do  not  easily  forgive." 

She  glared  at  him  a  moment,  rage,  alarm,  and  vexation, 
all  distorting  her  face.  Then,  "  The  door!  "  she  hissed. 
''  The  door,  boor!  You  are  still  my  son,  and  if  you  will 
not  obey  me,  shall  respect  me.  Take  me  out,  and  if  ever 
I  enter  your  house  again " 

She  did  not  complete  the  sentence,  but  lapsed  into  nod- 
dings  and  mowings  and  mutterings,  her  fierce  black  eyes 
flickering  vengeance  to  come.  However,  my  lord  paid 
no  heed  to  that,  but  glad,  doubtless,  to  be  rid  of  her  visit 
even  at  the  cost  of  his  Venetian,  offered  her  his  arm  in 
silence  and  led  her  into  the  hall  and  to  her  chariot. 

She  could  not  avenge  herself  on  him;  and  it  might  be, 
she  would  not  if  she  could.  But  there  was  one  on  whom 
her  passion  alighted,  who  with  all  her  cunning  little  ex- 
pected the  impending  storm.  The  most  astute  are  some- 
times found  napping.  And  the  smoothest  pad-nag  will 
plunge.  Whether  the  favourite  waiting- woman  had  over- 
stepped her  authority  of  late,  jiresuming  on  a  senility, 
which  existed  indeed,  but  neither  absolutely  blinded  my 
lady  nor  was  to  be  depended  on  in  face  of  gusts  of  pas- 
sion such  as  this;  whether  this  was  the  case,  I  say,  or 
Monterey,  rendered  incautious  by  success,  was  unfortunate 
enough  to  betray  her  triumph,  by  some  look  of  spite  and 


376  SHREWSBURY 

malice  during  the  drive  home,  it  is  certain  that  at  the 
door  the  storm  broke.  Without  the  least  warning  the 
Countess,  after  using  her  arm  to  descend,  turned  on  her, 
a  very  Bess  of  Bedlam. 

"  And  you,  you  grinning  ape!  "  she  cried,  "  you  come 
no  farther!  This  is  no  home  of  yours;  begone,  or  I  will 
have  you  whipped !     You  don't  go  into  my  house  again ! ' ' 

The  astonished  woman,  taken  utterly  aback,  and  not  in 
the  least  understanding,  began  to  remonstrate.  Her  first 
thought  was  that  the  Countess  was  ill.  "  Your  ladyship 
—is  not  well?"  she  cried,  with  solicitude  veiling  her 
alarm.     "  You  cannot  mean " 

"  Ay,  but  I  can!  I  can!  "  the  old  lady  answered,  mock- 
ing her.  "  You  have  done  mischief  enow,  and  do  no  more 
here !  Where  is  that  man  of  yours,  who  went,  and  never 
came  back,  and  nought  but  excuses?     And  now  this." 

"Oh,  my  lady,  what  ails  you?"  the  waiting-woman 
cried.     "  What  does  this  mean  ?  " 

"  You  know!  "  said  my  lady  with  an  oath.  "  So  be- 
gone about  your  business,  and  don't  let  me  see  your  face 
again  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you." 

Disarmed  of  her  usual  address  by  the  suddenness  of 
the  attack,  the  Monterey  began  to  whimper;  and  again 
asked  how  she  had  offended  her  and  what  she  had  done 
to  deserve  this.  "  I,  who  have  served  you  so  long,  and 
so  faithfully  ?  "  she  cried.     "  What  have  I  done  to  earn 

this?" 

"  God  and  you  know — better  than  I  do!  "  was  the  fierce 
answer.  And  then,  "AYilliams,"  the  Countess  cried  to 
her  major-domo,  who,  with  the  lacqueys  and  grooms,  was 
standing  by,  enjoying  the  fall  of  the  favourite— "  see 
that  that  drab  does  not  cross  my  threshold  again;  or  you 
go,  do  you  hear  ?  Ay,  mistress,  you  would  poison  me  if 
you  could!  "  the  old  lady  went  on,  gibing,  and  pointing 
with  her  stick  at  the  face,  green  with  venom  and  spite, 
that  betrayed  the  baffled  woman's  feelings.     "Look  at 


SHREWSBURY  377 

her!  Look  at  her!  There  is  Madame  Voisin  for  you! 
There  is  Madame  Turner!  She  would  poison  you  all  if 
she  could.  But  you  should  have  done  it  yesterday,  you 
slut!  You  will  not  have  the  chance  now.  Put  her  rags 
out  here — here  on  the  road;  and  do  you,  Williams,  send 
her  packing,  and  see  she  takes  naught  of  mine,  not  a 
pinner  or  a  sleeve,  or  she  goes  to  Paddington  fair  for  it! 
Ay,  you  drab,"  my  lady  continued,  with  cruel  exulta- 
tion, "I'll  see  you  beat  hemp  yet!  and  your  shoulders 
smarting!  " 

"May  God  forgive  you!"  cried  the  waiting-woman, 
fighting  with  her  rage. 

"  He  may  or  He  may  not!  "  said  the  dreadful  old  lady, 
coolly  turning  to  go  in.  "Anyway,  your  score  won't 
stand  for  much  in  the  sum,  my  girl." 

And  not  until  the  Countess  had  gone  in  and  Madame 
Monterey  saw  before  her  the  grinning  faces  of  the  ser- 
vants, as  they  stood  to  bar  the  way,  did  she  thoroughly 
take  in  what  had  happened  to  her,  or  the  utter  ruin  of 
all  her  prospects  which  this  meant.  Then,  choking  with 
passion,  rage,  despair,  "  Let  me  pass,"  she  cried,  advan- 
cing and  trying  frantically  to  push  her  way  through 
them.  "  Let  me  pass,  you  boobies.  Do  you  hear  ?  How 
dare " 

"Against  orders,  Madame  Voisin!"  said  the  major- 
domo  with  a  hoarse  laugh;  and  he  thrust  her  back.  And 
when,  maddened  by  the  touch,  and  defeat,  she  flung  her- 
self on  him  in  a  frenzy,  one  of  the  lacqueys  cauglit  her 
round  the  waist  lifting  her  off  her  legs,  carried  her  out 
screaming  and  scratching,  and  set  her  down  in  the  road 
amid  the  laughter  of  his  companions. 

"There,"  he  said,  "and  next  time  better  manners, 
mistress,  or  I'll-  drop  you  in  the  horse  pond.  You 
are  not  young  enough,  nor  tender  enough  for  these 
airs!  Ten  years  ago  you  might  have  scratched  all  you 
pleased!  " 


378  SHREWSBURY 

"  Strike  you  dead !  "  she  cried,  "  my  husband — my  hus- 
band shall  kill  you  all!     Ay,  he  shall!  " 

"  When  he  gets  out  of  the  Gatehouse,  we  will  talk, 
mistress,"  the  man  answered.  "But  he's  there,  and  you 
know  it! " 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

My  lord  persisted  in  his  design  of  retiring  to  Eyford; 
nor  could  all  the  persuasions  of  his  friends,  and  of  some 
who  were  less  his  friends  than  their  own,  induce  him  to 
attend  either  the  meeting  of  the  party  at  Admiral  Eus- 
sell's,  or  that  which  was  held  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields; 
a  thing  which  I  take  to  be  in  itself  a  refutation  of  the 
statement,  sometimes  heard  in  his  disparagement,  that 
he  lacked  strength.  For  it  is  on  record  that  his  Grace  of 
Marlborough,  in  the  great  war,  where  he  had  in  a  manner 
to  contend  with  Emperors  and  Princes,  held  all  together 
by  his  firmness  and  conduct;  yet  he  failed  with  my  lord, 
though  he  tried  hard,  pleading  as  some  thought  in  his 
own  cause.  To  his  arguments  and  those  of  Admiral 
Eussell  and  Lord  Godolphin,  the  hearty  support  of  the 
party  was  not  lacking,  if  it  could  have  availed.  But  as  a 
fact,  it  went  into  the  other  scale,  since  in  proportion  as 
his  followers  proclaimed  their  faith  in  my  lord's  inno- 
cence, and  denounced  his  accusers,  he  felt  shame  for  the 
old  folly  and  inconsistency,  that  known  by  some,  and  sus- 
pected by  more,  must  now  be  proclaimed  to  the  world. 
It  was  this  which  for  a  time  paralysed  the  vigour  and  in- 
tellect that  at  two  great  crises  saved  the  Protestant  Party; 
and  this,  which  finally  determined  him  to  leave  London. 

It  was  not  known,  when  he  started,  that  horse-patrols 
had  been  ordered  to  the  Kent  and  Essex  roads  in  expec- 
tation of  His  Majesty's  immediate   crossing.     Nor  is  it 


SREEWSBURY    -  379 

likely  that  the  fact  would  have  swaj'ed  him  had  he  known 
it,  since  it  was  not  upon  Ilis  Majesty's  indulgence — of 
which,  indeed,  he  was  assured — or  disfavour,  that  he  was 
depending;  my  lord  being  moved  rather  by  considera- 
tions in  his  own  mind.  But  at  Maidenhead,  where  he 
lay  the  first  night,  Mr.  Vernon  overtook  him — coming  up 
with  him  as  he  prepared  to  start  in  the  morning — and 
gave  him  news  which  presently  altered  his  mind.  Not 
only  was  His  Majesty  hourly  expected  at  Kensington, 
where  his  apartments  were  being  hastily  prepared,  but 
he  had  expressed  his  intention  of  seeing  Fenwick  at  once, 
and  sifting  him. 

"  Nor  is  that  all,"  Mr.  Yernon  continued.  "I  have 
reason  to  think  that  your  Grace  is  under  a  complete  mis- 
apprehension as  to  the  character  of  the  charges  that  are 
being  made." 

"  What  matter  what  the  charges  are  ?  "  my  lord  replied 
wearily,  leaning  back  in  his  coach.  For  he  had  insisted 
on  starting. 

"  It  does  matter  very  much — saving  your  presence, 
Duke,"  Mr.  Vernon  answered  bluntly;  a  sober  and  down- 
right gentleman,  whose  after-succession  to  the  Seals, 
though  thought  at  the  time  to  be  an  excessive  elevation, 
and  of  the  most  sudden,  was  fully  justified  by  his  honour- 
able career.  "  Pardon  me,  I  must  speak,  I  have  been 
swayed  too  long  by  your  Grace's  extreme  dislike  of  the 
topic." 

"  Which  continues,"  my  lord  said  drily. 

"I  care  not  a  jot  if  it  does!  "  Mr.  Vernon  cried  im- 
petuously, and  then  met  the  Duke's  look  of  surprise  and 
anger  with,  "  Your  Grace  forgets  that  it  is  treason  is  in 
question!  High  Treason,  not  in  the  clouds  and  in ]}?'(&- 
te7-ito,  hnt  171  ])r(Bsenti  and  in  Kent!  High  Treason  in 
aiding  and  abetting  Sir  John  Fenwick,  an  outlawed 
traitor,  and  by  his  mouth  and  hand  communicating  with 
and  encouraging  the  King's  enemies." 


380  SHREWSBURY 

"  You  are  beside  the  mark,  sir,"  my  lord  answered,  in 
a  tone  of  freezing  displeasure.  "  That  has  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  It  is  a  foolish  tale  which  will  not  stand  a  min- 
ute.    No  man  believes  it. " 

"  May  be!     But  by  G d!  two  men  will  prove  it." 

"Two  men?"  quoth  my  lord,  his  ear  caught  by 
that. 

"Ay,  two  men!  And  two  men  are  enough,  in  trea- 
son." 

My  lord  stared  hard  before  him.  "  Who  is  the 
second  ?  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  A  dubious  fellow,  yet  good  enough  for  the  j^urpose," 
the  Under-Secretary  answered,  overjoyed  that  he  had  at 
last  got  a  hearing.  "  A  man  named  Matthew  Smith,  long 
susjiected  of  Jacobite  practices,  and  arrested  with  the 
others  at  the  time  of  the  late  conspiracy,  but  released, 
as  he  says " 

"Well?" 

"Corruptly,"  quoth  the  Under-Secretary  coolly,  and 
laid  his  hand  on  the  check-string. 

My  lord  sprang  in  his  seat.  "  What?  "  he  cried;  and 
uttered  an  oath,  a  thing  to  w^hich  he  rarely  condescended. 
Then,  "  It  is  true  I  know  the  man " 

"  He  is  in  the  Countess's  service." 

"In  her  husband's.  And  he  was  brought  before  me. 
But  the  warrant  w^as  against  one  John  Smith — or  Wil- 
liam Smith,  I  forget  which — and  I  knew  this  man  to  be 
Matthew  Smith;  and  the  messenger  himself  avowing  a 
mistake,  I  released  the  man." 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Vernon,  nodding  imj)atiently. 
"Of  course,  but  that,  your  Grace,  is  not  the  gravamen. 
It  is  a  more  serious  matter  that  he  alleges  that  he  accom- 
panied you  to  Ashford,  that  you  there  in  his  presence 
saw  Sir  John  Fenwick,  that  you  gave  Sir  John  a  ring — 
and,  in  a  word,  he  confirms  Sir  John's  statement  in  all 
points.     And  there  being  now  two  witnesses,  the  matter 


SERE  WSB  UR  Y  381 

becomes  grave.  Shall  I  stop  the  coach  ?  "  And  he  made 
again  as  if  he  would  twitch  the  cord. 

The  Duke,  wearing  a  very  sober  face — yet  one  wherein 
the  light  of  conflict  began  to  flicker — drummed  softly  on 
the  glass  with  his  fingers.  "  How  do  you  come  by  his 
evidence?"  he  said  at  last.  "Has  Sir  John  approved 
against  him?  " 

"No,  but  Sir  John  sent  for  him  the  morning  he  saw 
Devonshire  for  the  second  time,  and  I  suppose  threatened 
him,  for  the  fellow  went  to  Trumball  and  said  that  he 
had  evidence  to  give  touching  Sir  John,  if  he  could  have 
His  Majesty's  word  he  should  not  suffer.  It  was  given 
him,  more  or  less;  and  he  confirmed  Sir  John's  tale 
totidem  verbis.  They  have  had  him  in  the  Gatehouse 
these  ten  days,  it  seems,  on  Trumball's  warrant." 

The  Duke  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  Mr.  Vernon,  I  am 
much  obliged  to  you,"  he  said.  "  You  have  played  the 
friend  in  my  teeth.  I  see  that  I  have  treated  this  matter 
too  lightly.  Sir  John,  unhappy  as  he  is  in  some  of  his 
notions,  is  a  gentleman,  and  I  Avas  wrong  to  think  that  he 
would  accuse  me  out  of  pure  malice  and  without  grounds. 
There  is  some  ill  joractice  here." 

"Devilish  ill,"  Mr.  Vernon  answered,  scarce  able  to 
conceal  his  delight. 

"Some  plot." 

"Ay,  plot  within  plot!"  cried  the  Under-Secretary, 
chuckl  i  ng.      "  Shall  I  pull  the  string  ?  ' ' 

The  Duke  hesitated,  his  face  plainly  showing  the  con- 
flict that  was  passing  in  his  mind.  Then,  "  If  you 
please,"  he  said. 

And  so  there  the  coach  came  to  a  standstill,  as  I  have 
often  heard,  on  an  old  brick  bridge  short  of  Nettlebed, 
near  the  coming  into  the  village  from  ]\Iaidenhead.  One 
of  the  outriders,  spurring  to  the  carriage  window  for 
orders,  my  lord  cried  "  Turn!     Maidenhead!  " 

"No,  London,"  said  Mr.  Vernon  firmly.     "And  one 


383  SHREWSBURY 

of  yon,"  he  continued,  "gallop  forward,  and  have 
horses  ready  at  the  first  change  house.  And  so  to  the 
next. ' ' 

The  Duke,  his  head  in  a  whirl  with  what  he  had  heard, 
pushed  resistance  no  farther,  but  letting  the  reins  fall 
from  his  hands,  consented  to  be  led  by  his  companion. 
In  deference  to  his  wishes,  however — not  less  than  to  his 
health,  which  the  events  of  the  last  few  weeks  had  seri- 
ously shaken — it  was  determined  to  conceal  his  return  to 
town;  the  rather  as  the  report  of  his  absence  might  en- 
courage his  opponents,  and  lead  them  to  show  their  hands 
more  clearly.  Hence,  in  the  common  histories  of  the 
day,  and  even  in  works  so  learned  and  generally  well- 
informed  as  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury's  and  Mr.  's,  it 

is  said  and  asserted  that  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury  retired 
to  his  seat  in  Gloucestershire  before  the  King's  return, 
and  remained  there  in  seclusion  until  his  final  resignation 
of  the  Seals.  It  is  2:)robable  that  by  using  Mr.  Vernon's 
house  in  place  of  his  own,  and  by  his  extreme  avoidance 
of  publicity  while  he  lay  in  town,  my  lord  had  himself  to 
thank  for  this  statement;  but  that  in  making  it  these 
writers,  including  the  learned  Bishop,  are  wanting  in 
accuracy,  the  details  I  am  to  present  will  clearly  show. 

Suffice  it  that  entering  London  late  that  night,  my  lord 
drove  to  Mr.  Vernon's,  who,  going  next  morning  to  the 
office,  presently  returned  with  the  news  that  the  King 
had  ridden  in  from  Margate  after  dining  at  Sittingbourne, 
and  would  give  an  audience  to  Sir  John  on  the  following 
day.  But,  as  these  tidings  did  no  more  than  fulfil  the 
exj^ectation,  and  scarcely  accounted  for  the  air  of  brisk- 
ness and  satisfaction  Avhich  marked  the  burly  and  honest 
gentleman,  it  is  to  be  supposed  that  he  did  not  tell  the 
Duke  all  he  had  learned.  And,  indeed,  I  know  this  to 
be  so. 


SHREWSBURY  383 


CHAPTER  XLIV 


About  ten  on  the  morning  of  the  3rd  of  November  of 
that  year  eight  gentlemen  of  the  first  rank  in  Enghmd 
were  assembled  in  the  gallery  at  Kensington,  awaiting  a 
summons  to  the  King's  closet.  With  the  exception  of 
Lord  Godolphin,  who  had  resigned  his  office  three  days^ 
earlier,  all  belonged  to  the  party  in  power,  notwithstand- 
ing which,  a  curious  observer  might  have  detected  in  their 
manner  and  intercourse  an  air  of  reserve  and  constraint, 
unusual  among  men  at  once  so  highly  placed,  and  of  the 
same  opinions.  A  little  thought,  however,  and  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  business  which  brought  them  together,  would 
have  explained  the  cause  of  this. 

While  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  the  Marquis  of  Dorset, 
and  Lord  Portland  formed  a  group  apart,  it  was  to  be 
noticed  that  Lords  Marlborough  and  Godolphin  and  Ad- 
miral Russell,  who  seemed  to  fall  naturally  into  a  second 
group — and  though  the  movements  of  the  company  con- 
stantly left  them  together — never  suffered  this  arrange- 
ment to  last;  but  either  effected  a  temporary  change,  by 
accosting  the  Lord  Keeper  or  Mr.  Secretary  Trumball,  or 
through  the  medium  of  Sir  Edward  Russell's  loud  voice 
and  boisterous  manners,  wrought  a  momentary  fusion  of 
the  company. 

"By  the  Eternal,  I  am  the  most  unlucky  fellow,"  the 
Admiral  cried,  addressing  the  Avhole  company,  on  one  of 
these  occasions.  "  If  Sir  John  had  lied  about  me  only,  I 
should  have  given  it  him  back  in  his  teeth,  and  so  fair 
and  square;  it  is  a  poor  cook  does  not  know  his  own 
batch.  But  because  he  drags  in  the  Duke,  and  the  Duke 
chooses  to  get  the  fantods,  and  shirks  him,  I  stand  the 
worse!  " 

"  Sir  Edward,"  said  Lord  Dorset,  speaking  gravely  and 


384  SHREWSBURY 

in  a  tone  of  rebuke,  "  No  one  supposes  that  the  Duke  of 
Shrewsbury  is  aught  but  ill.  And,  allow  me  to  say  that 
under  the  circumstances  you  are  unwise  to  put  it  on  him. " 

"  But  d n  me,  he  has  no  right  to  be  ill!  "  cried  the 

seaman,  whose  turbulent  spirit  was  not  easily  put  down. 
"If  he  were  here,  I  would  say  the  same  to  his  face. 
And  that  is  flat!" 

He  was  proceeding  with  more,  but  at  that  moment  the 
door  of  the  Koyal  closet  was  thrown  open,  and  a  gentle- 
man usher  appeared,  inviting  them  to  enter.  "  My  lords 
and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  His  Majesty  desires  you  to  be 
seated,  as  at  the  Council.     He  will  be  presently  here." 

The  movement  into  the  next  room  being  made,  the  con- 
versation took  a  lower  tone,  each  speaking  only  to  his 
neighbour;  one,  discussing  the  King's  crossing  and  the 
speed  of  his  new  yacht,  another  the  excellent  health  and 
spirits  in  which  His  Majesty  had  returned;  until  a  door 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  room  being  opened,  a  murmur  of 
voices,  and  stir  of  feet  were  heard,  and  after  a  moment's 
delay.  Sir  John  Fenwick  entered,  a  prisoner,  and  with  a 
somewhat  dazed  air  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the  table. 

The  Lord  Steward  rose  and  gravely  bowed  to  him;  and 
this  courtesy,  in  which  he  was  followed  by  all  except  the 
Admiral,  was  returned  by  the  prisoner. 

"  Sir  John,"  said  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  "the  King 
will  be  presently  here." 

"  I  am  obliged  to  your  Grace,"  Fenwick  answered,  and 
stood  waiting. 

His  gaunt  form,  clothed  in  black,  his  face  always  stern 
and  now  haggard,  his  eyes — in  which  pride  and  fanati- 
cism, at  one  moment  overcame  and  at  another  gave  place 
to  the  look  of  a  hunted  beast — these  things  would  have 
made  him  a  pathetic  figure  at  any  time  and  under  any 
circumstances.  How  much  more  when  those  who  cjazed 
on  him  knew  that  he  stood  on  the  brink  of  death !  and 
knew,  too,  that  within  a  few  moments  he  must  meet  the 


SHREWSBURY  385 

prince  who  for  years  he  had  insulted  and  defied,  and  in 
whose  hands  his  fate  now  lay ! 

That  some,  less  interested  in  the  matter  than  others, 
harboured  such  thoughts,  the  looks  of  grave  compassion 
which  Lords  Devonshire  and  Dorset  cast  on  him  seemed 
to  prove.  But  their  reflections — which,  doubtless,  car- 
ried them  back  to  a  time  when  the  most  brilliant  and 
cynical  of  courtiers  played  the  foremost  part  in  the 
Whitehall  of  the  Restoration — these,  no  less  than  the 
mutterings  aud  restless  movements  of  Eussell,  who,  in 
his  enemy's  presence,  could  scarcely  control  himself,  were 
cut  short  by  the  King's  entrance. 

He  came  in  unannounced,  and  very  quietly,  at  a  door 
behind  the  Lord  Steward;  and  all  rising  to  their  feet,  he 
bade  them  in  a  foreign  accent,  "  Good-day,"  adding  im- 
mediately, "  Be  seated,  my  lords.  My  Lord  Steward,  we 
will  proceed." 

His  entrance  and  words,  abrupt,  if  not  awkward, 
lacked  alike  the  grace  which  all  remembered  in  Charles, 
and  the  gloomy  majesty  which  the  second  James  had  at 
his  command.  And  men  felt  the  lack.  Yet,  as  he  took 
his  stand,  one  hand  lightly  resting  on  the  back  of  the 
Lord  Steward's  chair,  the  stooping  sombre  figure  and 
sallow,  withered  face  staring  out  of  its  great  peruque,  had 
a  dignity  of  their  own.  For  it  could  not  be  forgotten 
that  he  was  that  which  no  Stuart  King  of  England  had 
ever  been — a  soldier  and  a  commander  from  boyhood,  at 
home  in  all  the  camps  of  Flanders  and  the  Rhine,  famil- 
iar with  every  peril  of  battle  and  breach ;  at  his  ease  any- 
where, where  other  men  blenched  and  drew  back.  And 
the  knowledge  that  this  was  so  invested  him  with  a  cer- 
tain awe  and  grandeur  even  in  the  eyes  of  courtiers.  On 
this  day  he  wore  a  black  suit,  relieved  only  by  the  ribbon 
of  the  Garter;  and  as  he  stood  he  let  his  chin  sink  so  low 
on  his  breast,  that  his  eyes,  which  could  on  occasion  shine 
with  a  keen  and  almost  baleful  light,  were  hidden. 
25 


386  SHREWSBURY 

The  Lord  Steward,  in  obedience  to  his  command,  was 
about  to  address  Sir  John,  when  the  King,  with  a 
brusqueness  characteristic  of  him,  intervened.  "Sir 
John,"  he  said,  in  a  harsh,  dry  voice,  and  speaking 
partly  in  French,  partly  in  English,  "your  papers  are 
altogether  unsatisfactory.  Instead  of  giving  us  an  ac- 
count of  the  plots  formed  by  you  and  your  accomplices, 
plots  of  which  all  the  details  must  be  exactly  known  to 
you,  you  tell  us  stories  without  authority,  without  date, 
without  place,  about  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  with 
whom  you  do  not  jaretend  to  have  had  any  intercourse. 
In  short,  your  confession  appears  to  be  a  contrivance,  in- 
tended to  screen  those  who  are  really  engaged  in  designs 
against  us,  and  to  make  me  suspect  and  discard  those  in 
whom  I  have  good  reason  to  place  confidence.  If  you 
look  for  any  favour  from  me,  therefore,  you  will  give  me 
this  moment,  and  on  this  spot,  a  full  and  straightforward 
account  of  what  you  know  of  your  own  knowledge.  And 
— but  do  you  tell  him  the  rest,  my  lord." 

"Sir  John,"  said  the  Lord  Steward  in  a  tone  serious 
and  compassionate,  "  His  Majesty  invites  your  confidence, 
and  will  for  good  reasons  show  you  his  favour.  But  you 
must  deserve  it.  And  it  is  his  particular  desire  that  you 
conclude  nothing  from  the  fact  that  you  are  admitted  to 
see  him." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  the  King,  dryly,  "I  see  you, 
sir,  for  the  sake  of  my  friends.  If,  therefore,  you  can 
substantiate  the  charges  you  have  made,  it  behoves  you  to 
do  it.  Otherwise,  to  make  a  full  and  free  confession  of 
what  you  do  know." 

"Sir,"  said  Sir  John  hoarsely,  speaking  for  the  first 
time,  "  I  stand  here  worse  placed  than  any  man  ever  was. 
For  I  am  tried  by  those  whom  I  accuse." 

The  King  slightly  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Fallait 
penser  la,  when  you  accused  them,"  he  muttered. 

Sir  John  cast  a  fierce  despairing  glance  along  the  table, 


SHREWSBURY  387 

and  seemed  to  control  himself  with  difficulty.  At  length, 
"  I  can  substantiate  nothing  against  three  of  those  per- 
sons," he  said;  whereon  some  of  those  who  listened 
breathed  more  freely. 

"  And  that  is  all,  sir,  that  you  have  to  say  ?  "  said  the 
King,  ungraciously;  and  as  if  he  desired  only  to  cut  short 
the  scene. 

"  All,-"  said  Sir  John  firmly,  "  against  those  three  per- 
sons. But  as  to  the  fourth,  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury, 
who  is  not  here " 

The 'King  could  not  sujjpress  an  exclamation  of  con- 
tempt. "You  may  spare  us  that  fable,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  It  would  not  deceive  a  child,  much  less  one  who  holds 
the  Duke  high  in  his  esteem." 

Sir  John  drew  himself  to  his  full  height,  and  looked 
along  the  table,  his  gloomy  eyes  threatening.  "  And  yet 
that  fable  I  can  prove,  sir,"  he  said.  "  That  I  can  sub- 
stantiate, sir.  To  that  I  have  a  witness,  and  a  witness 
above  suspicion !  If  I  prove  that,  sir,  shall  I  have  your 
Majesty's  favour?" 

"Perfectly,"  said  the  King,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
amid  a  general  thrill  and  movement;  for  though  rumours 
had  gone  abroad,  by  no  means  the  whole  of  Sir  John's 
case  was  known,  even  to  some  at  the  table.  "  Prove  it! 
Prove  that,  sir,  and  not  a  hair  of  your  head  shall  fall. 
You  have  my  promise." 

However,  before  Sir  John  could  answer,  Mr.  Secretary 
Trumball  rose  in  his  place  and  iutervened.  "  I  crave 
your  indulgence,  sir,"  he  said,  "  while,  with  your  Majes- 
ty's permission,  I  call  in  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury,  who 
is  in  waiting." 

"In  waiting,"  said  the  King,  in  a  voice  of  surprise; 
nor  was  the  surprise  confined  to  him.  "  I  thought  that 
he  was  ill,  Mr.  Secretary." 

"  He  is  so  ill,  sir,  as  to  be  very  unfit  to  be  abroad,"  the 
Secretary  answered.       "  Yet  he  came   to   be   in   readi- 


388  SHREWSBURY 

ness,  if  your  Majesty  needed  him.  Sir  John  Fenwick 
persisting,  I  ask  your  Majesty's  indulgence  Avhile  I  fetch 
him." 

The  King  nodded,  but  with  a  pinched  and  dissatisfied 
face;  and  Sir  William  retiring,  iu  a  moment  returned 
with  the  Duke.  At  his  entrance.  His  Majesty  greeted 
him  dryly,  and  with  a  hint  of  displeasure  in  his  manner; 
thinking  probably  that  this  savoured  too  much  of  a  coup 
de  thkitre,  a  thing  he  hated.  But  seeing  the  next  instant, 
and  before  the  Secretary  took  his  seat,  how  ill  the  Duke 
looked,  his  face  betrayed  signs  of  "disturbance;  after 
which,  his  eyelids  drooping,  it  fell  into  the  dull  and 
Sphinx-like  mould  which  it  assumed  when  he  did  not 
wish  his  thoughts  to  be  read  by  those  about  him. 

That  the  Duke's  pallor  and  wretched  appearance  gave 
rise  to  suspicion  in  other  minds  is  equally  certain;  the 
more  hardy  of  those  present,  such  as  my  Lord  Marlbor- 
ough and  the  Admiral,  being  aware  that  nothing  short  of 
guilt,  and  the  immediate  prospect  of  detection,  could  so 
change  themselves.  And  while  some  felt  a  kind  of  ad- 
miration, as  they  conned  and  measured  the  stupendous 
edifice  of  skilful  deceit,  which  my  lord  had  so  long  and 
perfectly  concealed  behind  a  front  of  brass,  as  to  take  in 
all  the  world,  others  were  already  busied  Avith  the  effect  it 
would  have  on  the  party,  and  how  this  might  be  softened, 
and  that  explained,  and  in  a  word  another  man  substi- 
tuted with  as  little  shock  as  possible  for  this  man.  JS'or 
were  these  emotions  at  all  weakened  when  my  lord,  after 
saluting  the  King,  took  his  seat,  without  speaking  or 
meeting  the  general  gaze. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  the  King  impatiently,  when  all  was 
quiet  again,  "  the  Duke  is  here.     Proceed." 

"I  will,"  Sir  John  answered  with  greater  hardiness 
than  he  had  yet  used,  "  I  have  simply  to  repeat  to  his  face 
what  I  have  said  behind  his  back:  that  on  the  10th  of 
last  June,   in  the  evening,  he  met  me  at  Ashford,   in 


SHREWSBURY  389 

Kent,  and  gave  me  a  ring  and  a  message,  bidding  me 
carry  both  with  me  to  St.  Germain's." 

My  lord  looked  slowly  round  the  table;  then  at  Sir 
John.  And  it  startled  some  to  see  that  he  had  compas- 
sion in  his  face. 

"  Sir  John,"  he  said — after,  as  it  seemed,  weighing  the 
words  he  was  about  to  speak,  ''you  are  in  such  a  i^osi- 
tion,  it  were  barbarous  to  insult  you.  But  you  must 
needs,  as  you  have  accused  me  before  His  Majesty  and 
these  gentlemen,  hear  me  state,  also  before  them,  that 
there  is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  what  you  say." 

Sir  John  stared  at  him  and  breathed  hard.  "  Mon 
dieu!  "  he  exclaimed  at  leno-th.  And  his  voice  sounded 
sincere. 

"I  was  not  at  Ashford  on  the  10th  of  June,"  the 
Duke  continued  with  dignity,  "or  on  any  day  in  that 
month.     I  never  saw  you  there,  and  I  gave  you  no  ring." 

"  Mon  (lieu  !  "  Sir  John  muttered  again;  and,  his  gaze 
fallen,  he  seemed  to  be  unable  to  take  his  eyes  ofE  the 
other. 

Now  it  is  certain  that  whatever  the  majcfi'ity  of  those 
present  thought  of  this — and  the  demeanour  of  the  two 
men  was  so  steadfast  that  even  Lord  Marlborough's  acu- 
men was  at  fault — the  King's  main  anxiety  was  to  be  rid 
of  the  matter,  and  with  some  impatience  he  tried  to  put 
a  stop  to  it  at  this  point.  "Is  it  worth  while  to  carry  this 
farther,  my  lords?"  he  said,  fretfully.  "We  know  our 
friends.  We  know  our  enemies  also.  This  is  a  story ^c.<,r 
ruT,  and  deserving  only  of  contempt." 

But  Sir  John  at  that  cried  out,  protesting  bitterly  and 
fiercely,  and  recalling  the  King's  promise,  and  the  Duke 
being  no  less  urgent — though  as  some  thought  a  little 
unseasonably  for  his  own  interests — that  the  matter  be 
sifted  to  the  bottom,  the  King  had  no  option  but  to  let  it 
goon.  "  Very  well,"  he  said  ungraciously,  "if  he  will 
have  his  witness  let  him."     And  then,  with  one  of  those 


390  SHREWSBURY 

spirits  of  ]3eevishness,  which  stood  in  strange  contrast 
with  his  wonted  magnanimity,  he  added,  to  the  Duke  of 
Shrewsbury,  "It  is  your  own  choice,  my  lord.  Don't 
blame  me. ' ' 

The  querulous  words  bore  a  meaning  which  all  recog- 
nised; and  some  at  the  table  started,  and  resumed  the 
calculation  how  they  should  trim  their  sails  in  a  cei'tain 
event.  But  nothing  ever  became  the  Duke  better  than 
the  manner  in  which  he  received  that  insinuation.  "  Be 
it  so,  sir,"  he  said  with  s^oirit,  "My  choice  and  desire 
is  that  Sir  John  have  as  full  a  share  of  justice  as  I  claim 
for  myself,  and  as  fair  a  hearing.  Less  than  that  were 
inconsistent  with  your  Majesty's  prerogative,  and  my 
honour." 

The  King's  only  answer  was  a  sulky  and  careless  nod. 
On  which  Sir  William  Trumball,  after  whispering  to  the 
prisoner,  went  out,  and  after  a  brief  delay,  which  seemed 
to  many  at  the  table  long  enough,  returned  with  Matthew 
Smith. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

That  the  villain  expected  nothing  so  little  as  to  see  the 
man  he  was  preparing  to  ruin,  I  can  well  believe;  and 
equally  that  the  ordeal,  sudden  and  unforeseen,  tried  even 
his  iron  composure.  I  have  heard  that  after  glancing 
once  at  the  Duke  he  averted  his  eyes;  and  thenceforth 
looked  and  addressed  himself  entirely  to  the  end  of  the 
table  where  the  King  stood.  But,  this  apart,  it  could  not 
be  denied  that  he  played  his  part  to  a  marvel.  Known  to 
more  than  one  as  a  ruffling  blade  about  town,  who  had 
grown  sober  but  not  less  dangerous  with  age  and  the 
change  of  times,  he  had  still  saved  some  rags  and  tatters 
of  a  gentleman's  reputation;  and  he  dressed  himself  ac- 


SHREWSBURY  391 

cordingly,  iusomuch  that,  as  he  stood  beside  Sir  John,  his 
stern  set  face,  and  steadfast  bearing,  made  an  impression 
not  unfavourable  at  the  set  out. 

Nor  when  bidden  by  the  King  to  speak  and  say  what 
he  knew,  did  he  fall  below  the  expectations  which  his 
appearance  had  created,  though  this  was  probably  due  in 
some  measure  to  my  lord's  self-control,  who  neither  by 
word  nor  sign  betrayed  the  astonishment  he  felt,  when  a 
man  to  whom  for  years  past  he  had  only  spoken  casually, 
and  once  in  six  months  as  it  were,  proceeded  to  recount 
with  the  utmost  fullness  and  particularity  every  detail  of 
the  journey,  which,  as  he  said,  they  two  had  taken  to- 
gether to  Ashford.  At  what  time  they  started,  where 
they  lay,  by  what  road  they  travelled — at  all  Smith  was 
pat.  Nor  did  he  stop  there;  but  went  on  to  relate  with 
the  same  ease  and  exactness  the  heads  of  talk  that  had 
passed  between  Sir  John  and  his  companion  at  the 
inn. 

Nor  was  it  possible  that  a  story  so  told,  with  minutiae, 
with  date,  and  place,  and  circumstances,  should  fall  on 
ears  totally  deaf.  The  men  who  listened  were  statesmen, 
versed  in  deceptions  and  acquainted  with  affairs — men 
who  knew  Gates  and  had  heard  Dangerfield ;  yet,  as  they 
listened,  they  shut  their  eyes  and  reopened  them,  to  assure 
themselves  that  this  was  not  a  dream!  Before  his  ap- 
pearance, even  Lord  Portland,  whose  distrust  of  English 
loyalty  was  notorious,  had  been  inclined  to  ridicule  Sir 
John's  story  as  a  desperate  card  played  for  life;  and  this, 
even  in  teeth  of  my  lord's  disorder,  so  incredible  did  it 
appear  that  one  of  the  King's  principal  Ministers  should 
stoop  to  a  thing  so  foolish.  Now,  it  was  a  sign  pregnant 
of  meaning  that  no  one  looked  at  his  neighbour,  but  all 
gazed  either  at  the  witness  or  at  the  table  before  them. 
And  some  who  knew  my  lord  best,  and  had  the  most 
affection  for  him,  felt  the  air  heavy,  and  the  stillness  of 
the  room  oppressive. 


393  SHREWSBURY 

Suddenly  the  current  of  the  story  was  broken  by  the 
King's  harsh  accent,  "  What  was  the  date  ?  "  he  asked, 
"  on  which  you  reached  Ashford  ?  " 

"Tlie  10th  of  June,  sir." 

"  Where  was  the  Duke  on  that  day?  "  William  contin- 
ued; and  he  turned  to  the  Lord  Steward.  His  tone  and 
question,  implying  the  most  perfect  contempt  for  the  tale 
to  which  he  was  listening,  to  an  extent  broke  the  spell; 
and  had  the  reply  been  satisfactory  all  would  have  been 
over.  But  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  turning  to  my  lord 
for  the  answer,  got  only  that  he  lay  those  two  nights  at 
his  mother's,  in  the  suburbs;  and  thereon  a  blank  look 
fell  on  more  than  one  face.  The  King,  indeed,  sniffed 
and  muttered,  "  Then  twenty  witnesses  can  confute 
this!  "  as  if  the  answer  satisfied,  and  was  all  he  had  ex- 
pected; but  that  others  were  at  gaze,  and  in  doubt,  was 
as  noticeable,  as  that  those  who  looked  most  solemn  and 
thoughtful,  were  the  three  who  had  themselves  stood  in 
danger  that  dav. 

At  a  nod  from  the  King,  Smith  resumed  his  tale;  but 
in  a  moment  he  was  pulled  up  short  by  Lord  Dorset,  who 
requested  His  Majesty's  leave  to  put  a  question.  Having 
got  permission,  "  How  do  you  say  that  the  Duke — came 
to  take  you  with  him  ?  "  the  ]\[arquis  asked  sharply. 

"  To  take  me,  my  lord  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Must  I  answer  that  question  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lord  Dorset,  with  grave  dignity. 

"  Well,  simply  because  I  had  been  the  medium  of  com- 
munication between  his  Grace  and  Sir  John,"  Smith  an- 
swered, dryly.  "  Even  as  on  former  occasions  I  had 
acted  as  agent  between  his  G-race  and  Lord  Middleton." 

My  lord  started  violently  and  half  rose. 

Then,  as  he  fell  back  into  his  seat,  "That,  sir,  is  the 
first  word  of  truth  this  person  has  spoken,"  he  said,  with 
dignity.      "It   is  a  fact  that  in  the  year  '92  he  twice 


SHREWSBURY  393 

brought  me  a  note  from  Lord  Middleton  and  arranged  a 
meeting  between  us." 

"Precisely,"  Smith  answered  with  effrontery,  "as  I 
arranged  this  meeting." 

On  that  for  the  first  time  my  lord's  self-control  aban- 
doned him.  He  started  to  his  feet.  "You  lie!"  he 
cried,  vehemently.  "  You  lie  in  your  teeth,  you  scoun- 
drel! Sir — pardon  me,  but  this  is — this  is  too  much!  I 
cannot  sit  by  and  hear  it!  " 

By  a  gesture  not  lacking  in  kindness,  the  King  bade 
him  resume  his  seat.  Then,  "Pes^e./"  he  said,  taking 
snuff  with  a  droll  expression  of  chagrin.  "  Will  anyone 
else  ask  a  question.  My  Lord  Dorset  has  not  been  for- 
tunate. As  the  Advocatus  Diaholi,  perhaps,  he  may  one 
day  shine." 

"If  your  Majesty  pleases,"  Lord  Marlborough  said,  "  I 
will  ask  one.  But  I  will  put  it  to  Sir  John,  and  he  can 
answer  it  or  not  as  he  likes.  How  did  you  know.  Sir 
John,  that  it  was  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury  who  met  you 
at  Ashford,  and  conferred  with  you  there?  " 

"  I  knew  the  Duke,"  Sir  John  answered  clearly.  "  I 
had  seen  him  often,  and  spoken  with  him  occasionally." 

"  How  often  had  you  spoken  to  him  before  this  meet- 
ing?" 

"  Possibly  on  a  dozen  occasions." 

"  You  had  not  had  any  long  conversation  with  him  ?  " 

"  No;  but  I  could  not  be  mistaken.  I  know  him,"  Sir 
John  added,  with  a  flash  of  bitter  meaning,  "as  well  as 
I  know  you.  Lord  Marlborough!  " 

"He  gave  his  title ?  " 

"  No,  he  did  not,"  Sir  John  answered.  "  He  gave  the 
name  of  Colonel  Talbot." 

Someone  at  the  table — it  was  Lord  Portland — drew  his 
breath  sharply  through  his  teeth;  nor  could  the  impres- 
sion made  by  a  statement  that  at  first  blush  seemed  harm- 
less, and  even  favourable  to  the  Duke,  be  ignored  or  mis- 


394  SHREWSBURY 

taken.  Three  out  of  four  who  sat  there  were  aware  that 
my  lord  had  used  that  name  in  his  wild  and  boyish  days, 
when  he  would  be  incognito ;  and,  moreover,  the  use  of 
even  that  flimsy  disguise  cast  a  sort  of  decent  probability 
over  a  story,  which  at  its  barest  seemed  credible.  For 
the  first  time  the  balance  of  credit  and  probability  swung 
against  my  lord ;  a  fact  subtly  indicated  by  the  silence 
which  followed  the  statement  and  lasted  a  brief  while;  no 
one  at  the  table  speaking  or  volunteering  a  farther  ques- 
tion. For  the  time  Matthew  Smith  was  forgotten— or 
the  gleam  of  insolent  triumph  in  his  eye  might  have  said 
somewhat.  For  the  time  Sir  John  took  a  lower  seat. 
Men's  minds  were  busy  with  the  Duke,  and  the  Duke 
only;  busy  with  what  the  result  would  be  to  him,  and  to 
the  party,  were  this  proved;  while  most,  perceiving  dully 
and  by  instinct  that  they  touched  upon  a  great  tragedy, 
shrank  from  the  denoiie7n.ent. 

At  last,  in  the  silence,  the  Duke  rose;  and  swaying 
blindly  on  his  feet,  caught  at  the  table  to  steady  himself. 
For  two  nights  he  had  not  slept. 

"Duke,"  said  the  King  suddenly,  "you  had  better 
speak  sitting." 

The  words  were  meant  in  kindness,  but  they  indicated  a 
subtle  change  of  attitude— they  indicated  that  even  the 
King  now  felt  the  need  of  explanation  and  a  defence; 
and  my  lord,  seeing  this,  and  acknowledging  the  invita- 
tion to  be  seated  only  by  a  slight  reverence,  continued  to 
stand,  though  the  effort  made  his  weakness  evident.  Yet 
when  he  had  cleared  his  throat  and  spoke,  his  voice  had 
the  old  ring  of  authority— with  a  touch  of  pathos  added, 
as  of  a  dying  King  from  whose  hand  the  sceptre  was 
passing. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  the  sins  of  Colonel  Talbot  were  not 
few.  But  this,  to  which  this  fellow  speaks,  is  not  of  the 
number.  Nor  have  you,  or  my  lords,  to  do  with  them. 
Doubtless,  with  my  fellows,  I  shall  have  to  give  an  ac- 


SHREWSBURY  395 

count  of  them  one  day.  But  as  to  the  present,  and  the 
Duke  of  Shrevvsbury — with  whom  alone  you  have  to  deal 
— I  will  make  a  plain  tale.  This  man  has  said  that  in 
'93  he  was  a  go-betweea,  for  me  and  Lord  Middleton.  It 
is  true;  as  you,  sir,  know,  and  my  lords  if  they  know  it 
not  already,  must  now  know,  to  my  shame.  For  the  fact, 
Lord  Middleton  and  I  were  relations,  we  met  more  than 
once  at  that  time,  we  supped  together  before  he  went  to 
France.  I  promised  on  my  part  to  take  care  of  his  inter- 
ests here,  he  in  return  offered  to  do  me  good  offices  there. 
As  to  the  latter  I  told  him  I  had  offended  too  deeply  to  be 
forgiven ;  yet  tacitly  I  left  him  to  make  my  peace  with 
the  late  King  if  he  could.  It  was  a  folly  and  a  poltroon- 
ery," the  Duke  continued,  holding  out  his  hands  with  a 
pathetic  gesture.  "It  was,  my  lords,  to  take  a  lower 
place  than  the  meanest  Nonjuror  who  honourably  gives  up 
his  cure.  I  see  that,  my  lords;  and  have  known  it,  and 
it  has  weighed  on  me  for  years.  And  now  I  pay  for  it. 
But  for  this  " — and  with  the  word  my  lord's  voice  grew 
full  and  round  and  he  stood  erect,  one  hand  among  the 
lace  of  his  steinkirk  tie  and  his  eyes  turned  steadfastly  on 
his  accuser — "for  this  which  that  man,  presuming  on  an 
old  fault  and  using  his  knowledge  of  it,  would  foist  on 
me,  I  know  nothing  of  it  !  I  know  nothing  of  it.  It  is 
some  base  and  damnable  practice.  At  this  moment  and 
here  I  cannot  refute  it;  but  at  the  proper  time  and  in 
another  place  I  shall  refute  it.  And  now  and  here  I  say 
that  as  to  it,  I  am  not  guilty — on  my  honour!  " 

As  the  last  word  rang  through  the  room  he  sat  down, 
looking  round  him  with  a  kind  of  vague  defiance.  There 
was  a  silence,  broken  presently  by  the  Lord  Steward, 
who  rose,  his  voice  and  manner  betraying  no  little  emo- 
tion. "His  Grace  is  right,  sir,  I  think,"  he  said.  "I 
believe  with  him  that  this  is  some  evil  practice;  but  it  is 
plain  that  it  has  gone  so  far  that  it  cannot  stop  here.  I 
would  suggest  therefore  that  if  your  Majesty  sees  fit " 


396  SHREWSBURY 

A  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  him,  and  he  turned 
that  way  impatiently,  and  paused.  The  King,  too, 
glanced  round  with  a  gesture  of  annoyance.  "  See  what 
it  is,"  he  said. 

Sir  William  Trumball  rose  and  went;  and  after  a  brief 
conference,  during  which  the  lords  at  the  table  continued 
to  cast  impatient  glances  towards  the  door,  he  returned. 
"If  it  please  you,  sir,"  he  said,  "  a  witness  desires  to  be 
heard."  And  Avith  that  his  face  expressed  so  much  sur- 
prise that  the  King  stared  at  him  in  wonder. 

' '  A  witness  ?  ' '  said  the  King,  and  pished  and  fidgeted 
in  his  chair.  Then,  "This  is  not  a  Court  of  Justice," 
he  continued,  peevishly.  "  We  shall  have  all  the  world 
here  presently.     But — well,  let  him  in." 

Sir  William  obeyed,  and  went  and  returned  under  the 
eyes  of  the  Council;  nor  will  the  reader  who  has  perused 
with  attention  the  earlier  part  of  this  history  be  greatly 
surprised  to  hear  that  when  he  returned,  I,  Richard 
Price,  was  with  him. 

I  am  not  going  to  dwell  on  the  misery  through  which 
I  had  gone  in  anticipation  of  that  appearance;  the  fears 
which  I  had  been  forced  to  combat,  or  the  night  Avatches, 
through  which  I  had  lain,  sAveating  and  awake.  Suffice 
it  that  I  stood  there  at  last,  seeing  in  a  kind  of  maze  the 
sober  lights  and  dark  rich  colours  of  the  room,  and  the 
faces  at  the  table  all  turned  towards  me;  and  stood 
there,  not  in  the  humble  guise  befitting  my  station,  but 
in  velvet  and  ruffles,  sword  and  peruke,  the  very  double, 
as  the  mirror  before  which  I  had  dressed  had  assured  me, 
of  my  noble  patron.  This,  at  Mr.  Vernon's  suggestion 
and  by  his  contrivance. 

While  I  had  lived  in  my  lord's  house,  and  moved  to 
and  fro  soberly  garbed,  in  a  big  wig  or  my  OAvn  hair,  the 
likeness  had  been  no  more  than  ground  for  a  nudge  and 
a  joke  among  the  servants.  Now,  dressed  once  more,  as 
Smith  had  dressed  me,  in  a  suit  of  the  Duke's  clothes, 


Q 
D 

< 


E- 

<; 

w 
u 
<: 


< 

< 

k: 
w 

H 
C 

o 
o 


SHREWSBURY  399 

and  one  of  his  perukes,  and  trimmed  and  combed  by  one 
who  knew  him,  the  resemblance  I  presented  was  so  re- 
markable that  none  of  the  lords  at  the  table  could  be  blind 
to  it.  One  or  two,  in  sheer  wonder,  exclaimed  on  it; 
while  Sir  John,  who,  poor  gentleman,  was  more  concerned 
than  any,  fairly  gasped  with  dismay. 

It  was  left  to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  to  break  the  sjiell. 
"What  is  this?  Who  is  this?"  he  said,  in  the  utmost 
astonishment.     "  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

The  King,  who  had  noted  on  an  occasion  that  very 
likeness,  which  all  now  saw,  and  was  the  first  to  read  the 
riddle,  laughed  dryly.  ''Two  very  common  things,  my 
lord,"  he  said,  "  a  rogue  and  a  fool.  Speak,  man,"  he 
continued,  addressing  me.  "  You  were  in  the  Duke's 
household  awhile  ago  ?  n'est-ce  pas  prt  9    I  saw  you  here  ?  " 

"Yes,  your  Majesty,"  I  said,  hardly  keeping  my  fears 
within  bounds. 

"And  you  have  been  playing  his  part,  I  suppose? 
Eh  ?    At — how  do  you  call  the  place — Ashford  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty — under  compulsion,"  I  said,  trem- 
bling. 

"Ay!  Compulsion  of  that  good  gentleman  at  the 
foot  of  the  table,  I  suppose  ?  " 

The  words  of  assent  were  on  my  lips,  when  a  cry,  and 
an  exceeding  bitter  cry,  stayed  their  utterance.  It  came 
from  Sir  John.  Dumbfounded  for  a  time,  between  aston- 
ishment and  suspicion,  between  wonder  what  this  travesty 
was  and  wonder  why  it  was  assumed,  he  had  at  length 
discerned  its  full  scope  and  meaning,  and  where  it  touched 
him.  With  a  cry  of  rage  he  threw  up  his  hands  in  pro- 
test against  the   fraud;  then  in  a  flash  he  turned  on  the 

villain  by  his  side.     "  You  d d  scoundrel!  "  he  cried. 

"You  have  destroved  me!     You  have  murdered  me!  " 

Before  he  could  be  held  off,  his  fingers  were  in  Smith's 
neckcloth,  and  clutching  his  throat;  and  so  staunch  was 
his  hold  that  Admiral  Russell  and  Sir  William  Trumball 


400  SHREWSBURY 

had  to  rise  and  drag  him  away  by  force.  "  Easy,  easy, 
Sir  John,"  said  the  Admiral  with  rough  sympathy.  "  Be 
satisfied.  He  will  get  his  deserts.  Please  God,  if  I  had 
him  on  my  ship  an  hour  his  back  should  be  worse  than 
Oates's  ever  was!  " 

Sir  John's  rage  and  disappointment  were  painful  to 
witness,  and  trying  even  to  men  of  the  world.  But  what 
shall  I  say  of  the  fury  of  the  man  at  bay,  who  denounced 
and  convicted  in  his  moment  of  triumph  saw,  white-faced, 
his  long-spun  web  swept  easily  aside  ?  Doubtless  he  knew, 
as  soon  as  he  saw  me,  that  the  game  was  lost,  and  could 
have  slain  me  with  a  look.  And  most  men  would  with- 
out more  ado  have  been  on  their  knees.  But  he  possessed, 
God  knows,  a  courage  as  rare  and  perfect  as  the  cause  in 
which  he  displayed  it  was  vile  and  abominable;  and  in  a 
twinkling  he  recovered  himself,  and  was  Matthew  Smith 
once  more.  While  the  room  rang  with  congratulations, 
questions,  answers  and  exclamations,  and  I  had  much  ado 
to  answer  one  half  of  the  noble  lords  who  would  examine 
me,  his  voice,  raised  and  strident,  was  heard  above  the 
tumult. 

"  Your  Majesty  is  easily  deceived!  "  he  cried,  his  very 
tone  flouting  the  presence  in  which  he  stood ;  yet  partly 
out  of  curiosity,  partly  in  sheer  astonishment  at  his  au- 
dacity, they  turned  to  listen.  "  Do  you  think  it  is  for 
nothing  his  Grace  keeps  a  double  in  his  house  ?  Or  that 
it  boots  much  whether  he  or  his  Secretary  went  to  meet 
Sir  John?  But  enough!  I  have  here!  here,"  he  con- 
tinued, tapping  his  breast  and  throwing  back  his  head, 
"that,  that  shall  out-face  him;  be  he  never  so  clever! 
Does  his  double  write  his  hand  too  ?  Read  that,  sir. 
Read  that,  my  lords,  and  say  what  you  think  of  your 
Whig  leader  !  " 

And  with  a  reckless  gesture,  he  flung  a  letter  on  the 
table.  But  the  action  and  words  were  so  lacking  in 
resj)ect  for  royal  chambers  that  for  a  moment  no  one  took 


SHREWSBURY  401 

it  up,  the  English  lords  who  sat  within  reach  disdaining 
to  touch  it.  Then  Lord  Portland  made  a  long  arm,  and 
taking  the  paper  with  Dutch  phlegm  and  deliberation 
opened  it. 

"Have  I  your  Majesty's  leave?"  he  said;  and  the 
King  nodding  peevishly,  "  This  is  not  his  Grace's  hand- 
writing," the  Dutch  lord  continued,  pursing  up  his  lips, 
and  looking  dubiously  at  the  script  before  him. 

"  No,  but  it  is  his  signature!  "  Smith  retorted,  fiercely. 
And  so  set  was  he  on  this  last  card  he  was  j^laying,  that 
his  eyes  started  from  his  head,  and  the  veins  rose  thick 
on  his  hands  where  they  clutched  the  table  before  him. 
"It  is  his  hand  at  foot.     That  I  swear!  " 

"Truly,  my  man,  I  think  it  is,"  Lord  Portland  an- 
swered, coolly.     "'  Shall  I  read  the  letter,  sir?  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  King,  with  irritation. 

"  It  appears  to  be  a  letter  to  the  Duke  of  Berwick,  at 
the  late  Bishop  of  Chester's  house  in  Hogsden  Gardens, 
bidding  him  look  to  himself,  as  his  lodging  was  known," 
Lord  Portland  answered,  leisurely  running  his  eye  down 
the  lines  as  he  spoke. 

It  was  wonderful  to  see  what  a  sudden  gravity  fell  on 
the  faces  at  the  table.  This  touched  some  home.  This 
was  a  hundred  times  more  likely  as  a  charge  than  that 
which  had  fallen  through.  Could  it  be  that  after  all  the 
man  had  his  Grace  on  the  hip?  Lord  Marlborough 
showed  his  emotion  by  a  face  more  than  commonly 
serene;  Admiral  Kussell  by  a  sudden  flush;  Godolphin 
by  the  attention  he  paid  to  the  table  before  him.  Nor 
was  Smith  behindhand  in  noting  the  effect  produced. 
For  an  instant  he  towered  high,  his  stern  face  gleaming 
with  malevolent  triumph.  He  thought  that  the  tables 
were  turned. 

Then,  "  In  whose  hand  is  the  body  of  the  paper  ?  "  the 
King  asked. 

"Your  Majesty's,"  Lord  Portland  answered,  with  a 
26 


402  SHREWSBURY 

grim  cliuckle,  and  after  a  pause  long  enough  to  accen- 
tuate the  answer. 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  the  King.  "  It  was  the  Friday 
the  plot  was  discovered.  I  remember  it.  I  am  afraid 
that  if  you  impeach  the  Duke,  you  must  impeach  me 
with  him." 

At  that  there  was  a  great  roar  of  laughter,  which  had 
not  worn  itself  out  before  one  and  another  began  to  press 
their  congratulations  on  the  Duke.  He  for  his  part  sat 
as  if  stunned;  answering  with  a  forced  smile  where  it 
was  necessary,  more  often  keeping  silence.  He  had  es- 
caped the  pit  digged  for  him,  and  the  net  so  skilfully 
laid.     But  his  face  betrayed  no  triumph. 

Matthew  Smith,  on  the  other  hand,  brought  up  short 
by  that  answer,  could  not  believe  it.  He  stood  awhile, 
like  a  man  in  a  fit;  then,  the  sweat  standing  on  his  brow, 
he  cried  that  they  were  all  leagued  against  him ;  that  it 
was  a  plot;  that  it  was  not  His  Majesty's  hand!  and  so 
on,  and  so  on;  with  oaths  and  curses,  and  other  things 
very  unfit  for  His  Majesty's  ears,  or  the  place  in  which 
he  stood. 

Under  these  circumstances,  for  a  minute  no  one  knew 
what  to  do,  each  looking  at  his  neighbour,  until  the  Lord 
Steward,  rising  from  his  chair,  cried  in  a  voice  of  thun- 
der, "  Take  that  man  away,  Mr.  Secretary,  this  is  your 
business!  Out  with  him,  sir!"  On  which  Sir  William 
called  in  the  messengers,  and  they  laid  hands  on  him. 
By  that  time,  however,  he  had  recovered  the  will  and 
grim  composure  which  were  the  man's  best  characteris- 
tics; and  with  a  last  malign  and  despairing  look  at  my 
lord,  he  suffered  them  to  lead  him  out. 


SHREWSBURY  403 


CHAPTER   XLVI 

That  was  a  great  day  for  my  lord,  but  it  was  also,  I 
truly  believe,  one  of  the  saddest  of  a  not  unhappy  life. 
He  had  gained  the  battle,  but  at  a  cost  known  only  to 
himself,  though  guessed  by  some.  The  story  of  the  old 
weakness  had  been  told,  as  he  had  foreseen  it  must  be 
told;  and  even  while  his  friends  pressed  round  him  and 
crying,  Salve  Tmpei'ator  !  rejoiced  in  the  fall  he  had  given 
his  foes,  he  was  aware  of  the  wound  bleeding  inwardly, 
and  in  his  mind  was  already  borne  out  of  the  battle. 

Yet  in  that  room  was  one  sadder.  Sir  John,  remain- 
ing at  the  foot  of  the  table,  frowned  along  it,  gloomy 
and  downcast;  too  proud  to  ask  or  earn  the  King's  fa- 
vour, yet  shaken  by  the  knowledge  that  now — now  was 
the  time;  that  in  a  little  while  the  door  would  close  on 
him,  and  with  it  the  chance  of  life — life  with  its  sun- 
shine and  air,  and  freedom,  its  whirligigs  and  revenges. 
Some  thought  that  in  consideration  of  the  trick  which 
had  been  played  upon  him,  the  King  might  properly  view 
him  with  indulgence;  and  were  encouraged  in  this  by  the 
character  for  clemency  which  even  his  enemies  allowed 
that  Sovereign.  But  William  had  other  views  on  this 
occasion;  and  when  the  hubbub  which  Smith's  removal 
had  caused  had  completely  died  away,  he  addressed  Sir 
John,  advising  him  to  depend  rather  on  deserving  his  fa- 
vour by  a  frank  and  full  discovery,  than  on  such  ingeni- 
ous contrivances  as  that  which  had  just  been  exposed. 

"I  was  no  party  to  it,"  the  unhappy  gentleman  an- 
swered. 

"  Therefore  it  shall  tell  neither  for  nor  against  you," 
the  King  retorted.     "  Have  you  anything  more  to  say." 

"I  throw  myself  on  your  ^Majesty's  clemency." 

"That  will  not  do.  Sir  John,"  the  King  answered. 


404  SHREWSBURY 

"  You  must  speak,  or — tlie  alternative  does  not  lie  with 
me.     But  you  know  it. " 

"  And  I  choose  it,"  Sir  John  cried,  recovering  his  spirit 
and  courage. 

"So  be  it,"  said  His  Majesty  slowly  and  solemnly. 
"I  will  not  say  that  I  expected  anything  less  from  you. 
My  lords,  let  him  be  removed." 

And  with  that  the  messengers  came  in  and  Sir  John 
bowed  and  went  with  them.  It  may  have  been  fancy,  but 
I  thought  that  as  he  turned  from  the  table  a  haggard 
shade  fell  on  his  face,  and  a  soul  in  mortal  anguish 
looked  an  instant  from  his  eyes.  But  the  next  moment 
he  was  gone. 

I  never  saw  him  again.  That  night  the  news  was  every- 
where that  Goodman,  one  of  the  two  witnesses  against 
him,  had  fled  the  country;  and  for  a  time  it  was  believed 
that  Sir  John  would  escape.  How,  in  face  of  that  diffi- 
culty those  who  were  determined  on  his  death,  effected 
it ;  how  he  was  attainted,  and  how  he  suifered  on  Tower 
Hill  with  all  the  forms  and  privileges  of  a  peer — on  the 
28th  of  January  of  the  succeeding  year — is  a  story  too 
trite  and  familiar  to  call  for  repetition. 

On  his  departure  the  Council  broke  up.  His  Majesty 
retiring.  Before  he  went,  a  word  was  said  about  me,  and 
some  who  had  greater  regard  for  the  post  factum  than  the 
pmnitentia  were  for  sending  me  to  the  Compter,  and 
leaving  the  Law  Officers  to  deal  with  me.  But  my  lord, 
rousing  himself,  interposed  roundly,  spoke  for  me  and 
would  have  given  bail  had  they  j^ersisted.  Seeing,  how- 
ever, how  gravely  he  took  it,  and  being  inclined  to  please 
him,  they  desisted,  and  I  was  allowed  to  go,  on  the  sim- 
ple condition  that  the  Duke  kept  me  under  his  own  eye. 
This  he  very  gladly  consented  to  do. 

Nor  was  it  the  only  kindness  he  did  me,  or  the  greatest; 
for  having  heard  from  me  at  length  and  in  detail  all  the 
circumstances  leading  up  to  my  timely  intervention,  he 


SHREWSBURY  405 

sent  for  me  a  few  days  later,  and  placing  a  paper  in  my 
hands  bade  me  read  the  gist  of  it.  I  did  so,  and  found 
it  to  be  a  free  pardon  passed  under  the  Great  Seal,  and 
granted  to  Eichard  Price  and  Mary  Price  his  wife  for  acts 
and  things  done  by  them  jointly  or  separately  against  the 
King's  Most  Excellent  Majesty,  within  or  without  the 
realm. 

It  was  at  Eyford  he  handed  me  this;  in  the  oak  par- 
lour looking  upon  the  bowling-green;  where  I  had  already 
begun  to  wait  upon  him  on  one  morning  in  the  week,  to 
check  the  steward's  accounts  and  tallies.  The  year  was 
nearly  spent,  but  that  autumn  was  fine,  and  the  sunlight 
which  lay  on  the  smooth  turf  blended  with  the  russet 
splendour  of  the  beech  trees  that  rise  beyond.  I  had  been 
thinking  of  Mary  and  the  quiet  courtyard  at  the  Hospi- 
tal, which  the  bowling-green  somewhat  resembled,  being 
open  to  the  park  on  one  side  only;  and  when  perusing 
the  paper,  my  lord  smiling  at  me,  I  came  to  her  name — 
or  rather  to  the  name  that  was  hers  and  yet  mine — I  felt 
such  a  flow  of  love  and  gratitude  and  remembrance  over- 
come me  as  left  me  speechless;  and  this  directed,  not 
only  to  him  but  to  her — seeing  that  it  was  her  advice  and 
her  management  that  had  brought  me  against  my  will  to 
this  haven  and  safety. 

The  Duke  saw  my  emotion  and  read  my  silence  aright. 
"  Well,"  he  said.    ^''  Are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

I  told  him  that  if  I  ^^•ere  not  I  must  be  the  veriest 
ingrate  living. 

"  And  you  have  nothing  more  to  ask  ?  "  he  continued, 
still  smiling. 

"Nothing,"!  said.  ''Except — except  that  which  it 
is  not  in  your  lordshiji's  power  to  grant." 

''  How?"  said  he,  with  a  show  of  surprise  and  resent- 
ment.    "  Not  satisfied  yet  ?     What  is  it  ?  " 

"If  she  were  here!  "  I  said.  "  If  she  were  here,  my 
lord!     But  Dunquerque " 


406 


SHREWSBURY 


''Is  a  far  cry,  eh!     And  the  roads  are  bad.     And  the 


seas- 


Are  worse,"  I  said  gloomily,  looking  at  the  paper  as 


SHE   WAS   MAKING    MARKS    ON    THE   TURF    WITH  A    STICK 


Tantalus  looked  at  the  water.     "And  to  get  word  to  her 
is  not  of  the  easiest." 

"No,"  the  Duke  said.     "  Say  you  so?     Then  what 


SHREWSBURY  407 

do  you  make  of  this,  faint-heart?"      And  he   pointed 
through  the  open  window. 

I  looked,  and  on  the  seat — whicli  a  moment  before  had 
been  vacant — the  seat  under  the  right-hand  yew-hedge 
where  my  lord  sometimes  smoked  his  jDijDe — I  saw  a  girl 
seated  with  her  shoulder  and  the  najie  of  her  neck  turned 
to  us.  She  was  making  marks  on  the  turf  with  a  stick 
she  held,  and  poring  over  them  when  made,  as  if  the 
world  held  nothing  else,  so  that  I  had  not  so  much  as  a 
glimpse  of  her  face.     But  I  knew  that  it  was  Mary. 

"Come,"  said  my  lord,  pleasantly.  "We  will  go  to 
her.  It  may  be,  she  will  not  have  the  pardon — after  all. 
Seeing  that  there  is  a  condition  to  it." 

"  A  condition  ?  "  I  cried,  a  little  troubled. 

"To  be  sure,  blockhead,"  he  answered,  in  high  good 
humour.     "  In  whose  name  is  it  ?  " 

Then  I  saw  what  he  meant  and  laughed,  foolishly. 
But  the  event  came  nearer  to  j^roving  him  true  than  he 
then  exjaected.  For  when  she  saw  the  jjaper  she  stepped 
back  and  put  her  hands  behind  her,  and  would  not  touch 
or  take  it;  while  her  small  face  cried  pale  mutiny.  "  But 
I'll  not  tell !  "  she  cried.  "  I'll  not  tell !  I'll  not  have  it. 
Blood-money  does  not  thrive.     If  that  is  the  price " 

"  My  good  girl,"  said  my  lord,  cutting  her  short,  yet 
without  impatience.      "  That  is  not  the  price.     This  is 
the  Price.     And  the  pardon  goes  with  him." 
*  *  *  * 

I  believe  that  I  have  now  told  enough  to  discharge  my- 
self of  that  Avhich  I  set  out  to  do:  I  mean  the  clearing  my 
lord  in  the  eyes  of  all  judicious  jaersons  of  those  imputa- 
tions which  a  certain  faction  have  never  ceased  to  heap 
on  him;  and  this  with  the  greater  assiduity  and  spite, 
since  he  by  his  single  conduct  at  the  time  of  the  late 
Queen's  death  was  the  means  under  Providence  of  pre- 
serving the  Protestant  Succession  and  liberties  in  these 
islands. 


408  SHREWSBURY 

That  during  the  long  interval  of  seventeen  years  that 
separated  the  memorable  meeting  at  Kensington,  which  I 
have  ventured  to  describe,  from  the  still  more  famous 
scene  in  the  Queen's  death-chamber,  lie  took  no  part  in 
public  life  has  seemed  to  some  a  crime  or  the  tacit  avowal 
of  one.  How  far  these  err,  and  how  ill-qualified  they 
are  to  follow  the  workings  of  that  noble  mind,  will  appear 
in  the  pages  I  have  written;  which  show  with  clearness 
that  the  retirement  on  which  so  much  stress  has  been 
laid,  was  due  not  to  guilt,  but  to  an  appreciation  of  hon- 
our so  delicate  that  a  spot  invisible  to  the  common  eye 
seemed  to  him  a  stain  non  suhito  delanda.  After  the 
avowal  made  before  his  colleagues — of  the  communica- 
tions, I  mean,  with  Lord  Middleton — nothing  would  do 
but  he  must  leave  London  at  once  and  seek  in  the  shades 
and  retirement  of  Eyford  that  peace  of  mind  and  ease  of 
body  which  had  for  the  moment  abandoned  him. 

He  went:  and  for  a  time  still  retained  office.  Later, 
notwithstanding  the  most  urgent  and  flattering  instances 
on  the  King's  part — which  yet  exist,  honourable  alike  to 
the  writer  and  the  recipient — he  persisted  in  his  resolu- 
tion to  retire;  and  on  the  12th  of  December,  1698,  being 
at  that  time  in  very  poor  health,  the  consequence  of  a 
fall  while  hunting,  he  returned  the  Seals  to  the  King, 
In  the  autumn  of  the  following  year  he  went  abroad;  but 
though  he  found  in  a  private  life — so  far  as  the  life  of  a 
man  of  his  princely  station  could  be  called  private — a 
happiness  often  denied  to  place  men  and  favourites,  he 
was  not  to  be  diverted  when  the  time  came  from  the  post 
of  danger.  Were  I  writing  an  eulogium  merely,  I  should 
here  enumerate  those  great  posts  and  offices  which  he  so 
worthily  filled  at  the  time  of  Queen  Anne's  death,  when 
as  Lord  Treasurer  of  England,  Lord  Chamberlain,  and 
Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland — an  aggregation  of  honours 
I  believe  without  precedent — he  performed  services  and 
controlled  events  on  the  importance  of  which  his  enemies 


SHREWSBURY  409 

no  less  than  his  friends  are  agreed.     But  I  forbear:  and 
I  leave  the  task  to  a  worthier  hand. 

This  being  so,  it  remains  only  to  speak  of  Matthew 
Smith  and  his  accomplice.  Had  my  lord  chosen  to  move 
in  the  matter,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Smith  would 
have  been  whipped  and  pilloried,  and  in  this  way  would 
have  come  by  a  short  road  to  his  deserts.  But  the  Duke 
held  himself  too  high,  and  the  men  who  had  injured  him 
too  low,  for  revenge;  and  Smith,  after  lying  some  months 
in  prison,  gave  useful  information,  and  was  released  with- 
out prosecution.  He  then  tried  to  raise  a  fresh  charge 
against  the  Duke,  but  gained  no  credence;  and  rapidly 
sinking  lower  and  lower,  was  to  be  seen  two  years  later 
skulking  in  rags  in  the  darkest  part  of  the  old  Savoy. 
In  London  I  must  have  walked  in  hourly  dread  of  him; 
at  Eyford  I  was  safe;  and  after  the  winter  of  '99,  in 
which  year  he  came  to  my  lord's  house  to  beg,  looking 
broken  and  diseased,  I  never  saw  him. 

I  was  told  that  he  expected  to  receive  a  rich  reward  in 
the  event  of  the  Duke's  disgrace,  and  on  this  account 
was  indifferent  to  the  loss  of  his  situation  in  my  lady's 
family.  It  seems  probable,  however,  that  he  still  hoped 
to  retain  his  influence  in  that  quarter  by  means  of  his 
wife,  and  thwarted  in  this  by  that  evil  woman's  dismissal, 
was  no  better  disposed  to  her  than  she  was  to  him.  They 
separated;  but  before  he  went  the  ruffian  revenged  him- 
self by  beating  her  so  severely  that  she  long  lay  ill  in  her 
apartments,  was  robbed  by  her  landlady,  and  finally  was 
put  to  the  door  penniless,  and  with  no  trace  of  the  beauty 
which  had  once  chained  my  lieart.  In  this  plight, 
reduced  to  be  the  drudge  of  a  tradesman's  wife,  and  sunk 
to  the  very  position  in   which  I  had  found  her  at  ]\Ir. 

D 's,  she  made  a  last  desperate  appeal  to  the  Duke 

for  assistance. 

He  answered  by  the  grant  of  a  pension,  small  but  suffi- 
cient, on  which  she  might  have  ended  her  days  in  a  de- 


410  SHREWSBURY 

gree  of  comfort.  But,  having  acquired  in  her  former 
circumstances  an  unfortunate  craving  for  drink,  wliich 
she  had  now  the  power  to  gratify,  she  lived  but  a  little 
while,  and  that  in  great  squalor  aud  misery,  dyiug,  if  I 
remember  rightly,  in  a  public-house  in  Spitalfields  in  the 
year  1703. 


THE  STORY  OF  FRANCIS  CLUDDE. 

By    STANLEY   J.    WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR  OF  "a  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE,"  "UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE,"  "THE  HOUSE  OF 
THE  WOLF,"  "mV  LADY  ROTHA,"  ETC. 


With  Four  Illustrations.      Crown  8vo,  $1.25. 


"  A  delightfully  told  and  exciting  tale  of  the  troublesome  times  of  Bloody  Mary  in  Eng- 
land, and  the  hero — every  inch  a  hero — was  an  important  actor  in  them." 

— New  Orleans  Picayune. 

"  It  is  a  highly  e.xciting  tale  from  beginning  to  end,  and  very  well  told." 

— New  York  Herald. 

"  One  of  the  best  historical  novels  that  we  have  read  for  some  time.  .  .  .  It  is  a 
story  of  the  time  of  Queen  Mary,  and  is  possessed  of  great  dramatic  power.  .  .  .  In  char- 
acter-drawing the  story  is  unexcelled,  and  the  reader  will  follow  the  remarkable  adventures 
of  the  three  fugitives  with  the  most  intense  interest,  which  end  with  the  happy  change  on 
the  accession  of  Elizabeth  to  the  throne." — Home  Journal,  Boston. 

"  The  book  presents  a  good  historical  pen-picture  of  the  most  stirring  period  of  English 
civilization,  and  graphically  describes  scenes  and  incidents  which  undoubtedly  happened. 
The  style  is  plain,  and  the  book  well  worthy  of  careful  perusal. 

"  Humor  and  pathos  are  in  the  pages,  and  many  highly  dramatic  scenes  are  described 
with  the  ability  of  a  master  hand." — Item,  Philadelhhl-^. 

"  Is  worthy  of  careful  reading :  it  is  a  unique,  powerful,  and  very  interesting  story,  the 
scene  of  which  is  laid  alternately  in  England,  the  Netherlands,  and  the  Rhenish  Palatinate ; 
the  times  are  those  of  Bloody  Mary.  Bishop  Gardiner  plays  a  leading  part  in  this  romance, 
which  presents  in  good  shape  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  period." 

— Buff.ilo  Commercial. 

"  A  romance  of  the  olden  days,  full  of  fire  and  life,  with  touches  here  and  there  of  love 
and  politics.  .  .  .  We  have  in  this  book  a  genuine  romance  of  Old  England,  in  which 
soldiers,  chancellors,  dukes,  priests,  and  high-born  dames  figure.  The  time  is  the  period  of 
the  war  with  Spain.  Knightly  deeds  abound.  The  story  will  more  than  interest  the  reader; 
it  will  charm  him,  and  he  will  scan  the  notices  of  forthcoming  books  for  another  novel  by 
Weyman." — PunLic  Oi'INION,  New  York. 

"  Its  humor,  its  faithful  observance  of  the  old  English  style  of  writing,  and  its  careful 
adherence  to  historic  events  and  localities,  will  recommend  it  to  all  who  are  fond  of  historic 
novels.  The  scenes  are  laid  in  England  and  in  the  Netherlands  in  the  last  four  years  of 
Queen  Mary's  life."  -Literary  World,  Boston. 

"  Is  distinguished  by  an  uncommon  display  of  the  inventive  faculty,  a  Dumas-like  ingenu- 
ity in  contriving  dangerous  situations,  and  an  enviable  facility  for  extricating  the  persecuted 
hero  from  the  very  jaws  of  destruction.  The  scene  is  laid  alternatelv  in  England,  the  Neth- 
eriands,  and  the  Rhenish  Palatinate ;  the  times  are  those  of  Bloody  ^'Iary.  Bishop  Gardiner 
plays  a  leading  part  in  this  romance,  which  presents  in  good  shape  the  manners  and  customs 
of  the  period.  It  is  useless  dividing  the  stor>'  into  arbitrary  chapters,  for  they  will  not  serve 
to  prevent  the  reader  from  'devouring'  the  '  Story  of  Francis  Cludde,'  from  the  stormy 
beginning  to  its  peaceful  end  in  the  manor-house  at'Coton  End." 

—Public  Ledger,  Philadelphia. 
_  "  This  is  certainly  a  commendable  story,  being   full   of  interest   and   told  with   great 
spirit.     .     .     .     It  is  a  capital  book  for  the  young,  and  even  the  less  hardened  nerves  of  the 
middle  aged  will   find   here  no  superfluity  of  gore  or  brutality  to  mar  their   pleasure  in  a 
bright  and  clean  tale  of  prowess  and  adventure." — Nation,  New  York. 

"  A  well-told  tale,  with  few,  if  any,  anachronisms,  and  a  credit  to  the  clever  talent  of 
Stanley  J.  Weyman." — Springfield  Repiiblican. 

"  It  is  undeniably  the  best  volume  which  Mr.  Weyman  has  given  us,  both  in  literary 
style  and  unceasing  interest." — Yale  Literary  Magazine. 


LONGMATTS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  riETH  AVE.,  NEW  YORK. 


UNDER    THE    RED    ROBE. 

A    ROMANCE. 

By   STANLEY   J.  WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR  OF  "a  gentleman  OF  FRANCE,"  "  THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WOLF,"  ETC, 


With    12  Full-page  Illustrations  by  R.  Caton  Woodville. 
1  2mo,  Linen  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1 .25. 


"Mr.  Weyman  is  a  brave  writer,  who  imagines  fine  things  and  describes  thera 
splendidly.  There  is  something  to  interest  a  healthy  mind  on  every  page  of  his  new 
story.  Its  interest  never  flags,  for  his  resource  is  rich,  and  it  is,  moreover,  the  kind  of 
a  story  that  one  cannot  plainly  see  the  end  of  from  Chapter  I.  .  .  .  the  story  reveals 
a  knowledge  of  French  character  and  French  landscape  that  was  surely  never  ac- 
quired at  second  hand.  The  beginning  is  wonderfully  interesting." — New  York  Times. 

"  As  perfect  a  novel  of  the  new  school  of  fiction  as  '  Ivanhoe  '  or  '  Henry  Esmond  ' 
was  of  theirs.  Each  later  story  has  shown  a  marked  advance  in  strength  and  treat- 
ment, and  in  the  last  Mr.  Weyman  .  .  .  demonstrates  that  he  has  no  superior 
among  living  novelists.  .  .  .  There  are  but  two  characters  in  the  story— his  art 
makes  all  other  but  unnoticed  shadows  cast  by  them — and  the  attention  is  so  keenly 
fixed  upon  one  or  both,  from  the  first  word  to  the  last,  that  we  live  in  their  thoughts 
and  see  the  drama  unfolded  through  their  eyes." — N.  Y.  World. 

"  It  was  bold  to  take  Richelieu  and  his  time  as  a  subject  and  thus  to  challenge  com- 
parison with  Dumas's  immortal  musketeers  ;  but  the  result  justifies  the  boldness.  .  .  . 
The  plot  is  admirably  clear  and  strong,  the  diction  singularly  concise  and  telling,  and 
the  stirring  events  are  so  managed  as  not  to  degenerate  into  sensationalism.  Few 
better  novels  of  adventure  than  this  have  ever  been  written." — Outlook,  New  York. 

"  A  wonderfully  brilliant  and  thrilling  romance.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman  has  a  positive 
talent  for  concise  dramatic  narration.  Every  phrase  tells,  and  the  characters  stano 
out  with  life-like  distinctness.  Some  of  the  most  fascinating  epochs  in  French  history 
have  been  splendidly  illuminated  by  his  novels,  which  are  to  be  reckoned  among  the 
notable  successes  of  later  nineteenth-century  fiction.  This  story  of '  Under  the  Red 
Robe '  is  in  its  way  one  of  the  very  best  things  he  has  done.  It  is  illustrated  with 
vigor  and  appropriateness  from  twelve  full-page  designs  by  R.  Caton  Woodville." 

— Boston  Beacon. 

"  It  is  a  skillfully  drawn  picture  of  the  times,  drawn  in  simple  and  transparent 
English,  and  quivering  with  tense  human  feeling  from  the  first  word  to  the  last.  It  is 
not  a  book  that  can  be  laid  down  at  the  middle  of  it.  The  reader  once  caught  in  its 
whirl  can  no  more  escape  from  it  than  a  ship  from  the  maelstrom." 

— Picayune,  New  Orleans. 

"The  'red  robe'  refers  to  Cardinal  Richelieu,  in  whose  day  the  story  is  laid. 
The  descriptions  of  his  court,  his  judicial  machinations  and  ministrations,  his  partial 
defeat,  stand  out  from  the  book  as  vivid  as  flame  against  a  background  of  snow.  For 
the  rest,  the  book  is  clever  and  interesting,  and  overflowing  with  heroic  incident. 
Stanley  Weyman  is  an  author  who  has  apparently  come  to  stay." — Chicago  Post. 

"  In  this  story  Mr.  Weyman  returns  to  the  scene  of  his  'Gentleman  of  France,' 
although  his  new  heroes  are  of  different  mould.  The  book  is  full  of  adventure  and 
characterized  by  a  deeper  study  of  character  than  its  predecessor." 

— Washington  Post. 

"  Mr.  Weyman  has  quite  topped  his  first  success.     .    .    .    The  author  artfully 

Eursues  the  line  on  which  his  happy  initial  venture  was  laid.  We  have  in  Berault,  the 
ero,  a  more  impressive  Marsac ;  an  accomplished  duelist,  telling  the  tale  of  his  own 
adventures,  he  first  repels  and  finally  attracts  us.  He  is  at  once  the  tool  of  Richelieu, 
and  a  man  of  honor.  Here  is  a  noteworthy  romance,  full  of  thrilling  incident  set  down 
by  a  master-hand." — Philadelphia  Press. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  riETH  AVE.,  NEW  YOEK. 


FROM  THE  MEMOIRS 
OF  A   MINISTER  OF  FRANCE. 

By  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE,"  "UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


With    36    Illustrations,   of   whichi    1  5   are  full-page. 
12mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 


"  A  collection  of  twelve  tales,  each  one  of  which  is  to  be  classed  as  a  masterpiece, 
so  subtle  and  strong  is  it  in  the  revelation  of  character,  so  impressive  its  portrayal 
of  the  times  and  the  scenes  with  which  it  deals.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman  has  produced 
a  really  brilliant  book,  one  that  will  appeal  alike  to  the  lovers  of  literature,  of  adven- 
ture, and  to  those  who  demand  in  fiction  the  higher  intellectual  quality.  .  .  .  The 
chances  are  that  those  who  take  it  up  will  not  put  it  down  again  with  a  page  or  even 
a  line  unread." — Boston  Beacon. 

"  To  read  these  merry  tales  of  adventure  and  to  lose  all  sense,  for  the  moment, 
of  life's  complexities,  is  a  refreshment ;  it  is  to  drink  again  at  the  pure  spring  of 
romance.  .  .  .  Weyman  .  .  .  has  caught  more  of  the  inner  spirit  of  sixteenth 
century  life  than  any  romancer  since  Scott." — Oregonian,  Portland,  Ore. 

"  These  briefer  tales  have  all  the  charm  and  attractiveness  that  attach  to  their 
author's  longer  romances,  and  many  of  the  leading  characters  of  the  latter  figure  in 
theni.  He  catches  the  attention  of  the  reader  at  the  very  outset  and  holds  it  to  the  end  ; 
while  his  skill  as  a  story-teller  is  so  great  that  his  characters  become  real  beings  to  us, 
and  the  scenes  which  he  describes  seem  actual  and  present  occurrences  as  he  narrates 
them." — Sacred  Heart  Review,  Boston. 

"  The  form  given  to  this  series  of  brilliant  stories  is  that  of  personal  narrative,  and 
the  eflfect  is  heightened  bv  constant  allusions  to  things  purporting  to  have  been  told 
elsewhere.  .  .  .  There  are  three  points  which  lift  this  book  above  the  level  of  ordi- 
nary fiction  founded  on  historv  :  There  is,  as  we  have  said,  the  likeness  of  the  king, 
there  is  the  self-drawn  picture  of  Sully,  and  there  is  the  admirable  local  colonng  of  the 
time,  and  these  three  disclose  the  power  and  fidelity  of  Mr.  Weyman's  studies  of 
French  historv  at  a  time  full  of  interest  and  replete  with  stirring  incident.  We  regard 
this  as  quite  equal  to  anything  we  have  seen  of  Mr.  Weyman's  spirited  and  clever 
work." — The  Churchman,  N.  Y. 

"  Thev  are  told  with  a  dash  and  spirit  that  set  the  blood  tingling,  and  lure  the 
reader  away  from  dull  decadence  to  days  of  gallantry  and  duels,  of  passion  and  dark 
intrigue."— The  Boston  Transcript. 

"  In  the  line  of  what  may  be  called  historical  romance  Mr.  Weyman  stands  alone 
among  living  writers.  .  .  .  The  ingenuity  and  fertility  of  Mr.  Weyman's  mind, 
coupled  witii  his  admirable  charm  in  storv-telling,  have  made  this  collection  an 
excellent  companion  to  those  other  familiar  tales  of  French  romance  which  preceded 
it.  For  they  are  tales  pure  and  simple,  combining  all  the  charms  of  the  story-teller 
who  knows  when  he  has  exhausted  his  subject  and  has  the  good  art  to  stop.  1  ^yelve 
stories  are  comprised  in  the  volume,  good  stories  all  of  them,  and  capitally  told.  A 
clever  old  man  was  Mr.  Wevman's  minister  of  France,  and  many  a  good  time  he  and 
King  Henry  had  together  when  they  went  out  searching  for  adventure." 

—Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"These  short  stories  of  the  time  of  Henry  IV.  have  all  the  charm  which  have 
made  the  author's  romances  so  popular.  In  most  of  them  the  king  is  the  central 
figure,  and  many  of  the  noble  traits  of  character  which  endeared  him  to  his_ generation 
are  skillfully  depicted.     No  one  can  fail  to  be  entertained  with  these  tales." 

— Thf,  Living  Church. 

"  These  chapters  display  inventive  powers  of  a  high  order,  and  show;  their  author's 
remarkable  insight  into  his  chosen  period  of  history.  Each  of  them  is  a  story  com- 
plete in  itself,  yet  the  character  of  the  great  minister  links  them  together  into  one  chain. 
They  are  more  than  interesting  ;  they  are  true  to  the  essential  facts  of  history,  with- 
out for  a  moment  becoming  dull  or  pedantic."— The  Dial,  Chicago. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  EIPTH  AVENTJE,  NEW  YORE. 


A  GENTLEMAN  OF  FRANCE. 

Being  the  Memoirs  of  Gaston  de  Bonne, 
Sieur  de  Marsac. 

By  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR    OF   "THE    HOUSE    OF  THE    WOLF,"   ETC. 


With  Frontispiece  and  Vignette  by  H.  J.  Ford. 
12mo,  Cloth,    Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"One  of  the  best  novels  since  'Lorna  Doone.'  It  will  be  read  and  then  re-read  for  the 
^lere  pleasure  its  reading  gives.  The  subtle  charm  of  it  is  not  in  merely  transporting  the 
nineteenth-century  reader  to  the  sixteenth,  that  he  may  see  hfe  as  it  was  then,  but  in  trans- 
forming him  into  a  sixteenth-century  man,  thinking  its  thoughts,  and  living  its  life  in  perfect 
touch  and  sympathy  ...  it  carries  the  reader  out  of  his  present  life,  giving  him  a  new 
and  totally  different  existence  that  rests  and  refreshes  him." — N.  Y.  World. 

"  No  novelist  outside  of  France  has  displayed  a  more  definite  comprehension  of  the  very 
essence  of  mediaeval  French  life,  and  no  one,  certainly,  has  been  able  to  set  forth  a  depiction 
of  it  in  colors  so  vivid  and  so  entirely  in  consonance  with  the  truth.  ,  .  .  The  characters 
in  the  tale  are  admirably  drawn,  and  the  narrative  is  nothing  less  than  fascinating  in  its  fine 
flavor  of  adventure." — Beacon,  Boston. 

"  We  hardly  know  whether  to  call  this  latest  work  of  Stanley  J.  Weyman  a  historical 
lomance  or  a  story  of  adventure.  It  has  all  the  interesting,  fascinating  and  thrilling  charac- 
teristics of  b^th.  The  scene  is  in  France,  and  the  time  is  that  fateful  eventful  one  which 
culminated  in  fienry  of  Navarre  becoming  king.  Naturally  it  is  a  story  of  plots  and  intrigue, 
of  danger  and  of  the  grand  passion,  abounding  in  intense  dramatic  scenes  ai>d  most  interest- 
ing situations.     It  is  a  romance  which  will  rank  among  the  masterpieces  of  historic  fiction." 

— Advertiser,  Boston. 

"  A  romance  after  the  style  of  Dumas  the  elder,  and  well  worthy  of  being  read  by  those 
who  can  enjoy  stirring  adventures  told  in  true  romantic  fashion.  .  .  .  The  great  person- 
ages of  the  time— Henry  III.  of  Valois,  Henry  IV.,  Rosny,  Rambouillet,  Turenne— are 
brought  in  skillfully,  and  the  tragic  and  varied  history  of  the  time  forms  a  splendid  frame  in 
which  to  set  the  picture  of  Marsae's  love  and  courage  ...  the  troublous  days  are  well 
described  and  the  interest  is  genuine  and  lasting,  for  up  to  the  very  end  the  author  manages 
effects  which  impel  the  reader  to  go  on  with  renewed  curiosity.'' — The  Nation. 

"A  genuine  and  admirable  piece  of  work.  .  .  .  The  reader  will  not  turn  many  pages 
before  he  finds  himself  in  the  grasp  of  a  writer  who  holds  his  attention  to  the  very  last  mo- 
ment of  the  story.     The  spirit  of  adventure  pervades  the  whole  from  beginning  to  end.     .     .     . 

It  may  be  said  that  the  narration  is  a  delightful  love  story.  The  interest  of  the  reader 
Is  constantly  excited  by  the  development  of  unexpected  turns  in  the  relation  of  the  principal 
lovers.  The  romance  lies  against  a  background  of  history  truly  painted.  .  .  .  The 
descriptions  of  the  court  life  of  the  period  and  of  the  factional  strifes,  divisions,  hatreds  of  the 
age,  are  fine.  .  .  .  This  story  of  those  times  is  worthy  of  a  very  high  place  among  histori- 
cal novels  of  recent  years."— Public  Opinion. 

"  Bold,  strong,  dashing,  it  is  one  of  the  best  we  have  read  for  many  years.  We  sat  down 
for  a  cursory  perusal,  and  ended  by  reading  it  delightedly  through.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman 
has  much  of  the  vigor  and  rush  of  incident  of  Dr.  Conan  Doyle,  and  this  book  ranks  worthily 
beside  '  The  White  Company.'  .  .  .  We  very  cordially  recommend  this  book  to  ihe  jaded 
novel  reader  who  cares  for  manly  actions  more  than  for  morbid  introspection." 

— The  Churchman. 
_  "The  book  is  not  only  good  literature,  it  is  a  'rattling  good  story,'  instinct  with  the 
spirit  of  true  adventure  and  stirring  emotion.  Of  love  and  peril,  intrigue  and  fighting,  there 
is  plenty,  and  many  scenes  could  not  have  been  bettered.  In  all  his  adventures,  and  they 
are  many,  Marsac  acts  as  befits  his  epoch  and  his  own  modest  yet  gallant  personality.  Well- 
known  historical  figures  emerge  in  telling  fashion  under  Mr.  Weymaii's  discriminating  and 
fascinating  touch." — Athenaeum. 

"I  cannot  fancy  any  reader,  old  or  young,  not  sharing  with  doughty  Crillon  his  admiration 
for  M.  de  Marsac,  who,  though  no  swashbuckler,  has  a  sword  that  leaps  from  its  scabbard  at  the 
breath  of  insult.  .  .  .  There  are  several  historical  personages  in  the  novel ;  there  is,  of 
course,  a  heroine,  of  great  beauty  and  enterprise  ;  but  that  true  '  Gentleman  of  France,' 
M.  de  Marsac,  with  his  perseverance  and  valor,  dominates  them  all." 

— Mr.  James  Payn  in  the  Illustrated  London  News. 


LONGMANS,  GEEEN,  &  00..  91-93  EIPTH  AVE.,  MEW  TOEZ. 


MY  LADY  ROTHA. 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  THIRTY  YEARS'  WAR. 
By  STANLEY  J.  WEYMAN. 

•jtleman  of  france,"  "  uni 
"the  house  of  the  wolf.' 


With  Eight  Illustrations.    Crown  8vo,  $1,25. 


"  Few  writers  of  fiction  who  have  appeared  in  England  in  the  last  decade  have  given 
their  readers  more  satisfaction  than  Mr.  Stanley  J.  Wejman,  and  no  single  writer  of  this 
number  can  be  said  to  have  approached  him,  much  less  to  have  equaled  him  in  the  romantic 
world  of  the  historical  novel  ...  he  has  the  art  of  story-telling  in  the  highest  degree, 
the  art  which  instinctively  divines  the  secret,  the  Ssoul  of  the  story  which  he  tells,  and  the 
rarer  art,  if  it  be  not  the  artlessness,  which  makes  it  as  real  and  as  inevitable  as  life  itself. 
His  characters  are  alive,  human,  unforgetable,  resembling  in  this  •■especl  those  of  Thackeray 
in  historical  lines  and  in  a  measure  those  of  Dumas,  with  whom,  and  not  inaptly,  Mr.  Wey- 
man  has  been  compared.  His  literature  is  good,  so  good  that  we  accept  it  as  a  matter  of 
course,  as  we  do  that  of  Thackeray  and  Scolt.  .  .  .  Mr.  Weyman's  historical  novels 
will  hve." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"...  differs  signally  from  Mr.  Weyman's  earlier  published  works.  It  is  treated 
with  the  minuteness  and  lovingness  of  a  first  story  which  has  grown  up  in  the  mind  of  the 
author  for  years.  .  .  .  Marie  Wort  is  one  of  the  bravest  souls  that  ever  movt  d  quietly 
along  the  pages  of  a  novel.  She  is  so  unlike  the  other  feminine  characters  whom  Wcyman 
has  drawn  that  the  difference  is  striking  and  adds  significance  to  this  one  book.  .  .  . 
'  My  Lady  Rotha  '  is  full  of  fascinating  interest,  all  the  more  remarkable  in  a  work  adhering 
so  strictly  to  historical  truth." — Evening  Post,  Chicago. 

"  This  last  book  of  his  is  brimful  of  action,  rushing  forward  with  a  roar,  leaving  the 
reader  breathless  at  the  close  ;  for  if  once  begun  there  is  no  stopping  place.  The  concep- 
tion is  unique  and  striking,  and  the  culmination  unexpected.  The  author  is  so  saturated 
with  the  spirit  of  the  times  of  which  he  writes,  that  he  merges  his  personality  in  that  of  the 
supposititious  narrator,  and  the  virtues  and  failings  of  his  men  and  women  are  set  forth  in  a 
fashion  which  is  captivating  from  its  very  simplicity.     It  is  one  of  his  best  novels." 

— Public  Opinion. 

"Readers  of  Mr.  Weyman's  novels  will  have  no  hesitation  in  pronouncing  his  just  pub- 
lished '  My  Lady  Rotha '  in  every  way  his  greatest  and  most  artistic  production.  We 
know  of  nothing  moie  fit,  both  in  conception  and  execution,  to  be  classed  with  the  immortal 
Waverleys  than  this  his  latest  work.  ...  A  story  true  to  life  and  true  to  the  times 
which  Mr.  Weyman  has  made  such  a  cateful  study."    —The  Advertisek,  Boston. 

"  No  one  of  Mr.  Weyman's  books  is  better  than  '  My  Lady  Rotha  '  unless  it  be  '  Under 
the  Red  Robe,'  and  those  who  have  learned  to  like  his  stories  of  the  old  days  when  might 
made  right  will  appreciate  it  thoroughly.     It  is  a  good  book  to  read  and  read  again." 

— New  York  Would. 

"...  As  good  a  tale  of  adventure  as  any  one  need  ask  ;  the  picture  of  those  war- 
like times  is  an  excellent  one,  full  of  life  and  color,  the  blare  of  trumpets  and  the  flash  of 
steel  -and  toward  the  close  the  description  of  the  besieged  city  of  Nuremberg  and  of  the 
battle  under  Wallenstein's  entrenchments  is  masterly." — 1!oston  Traveller. 

"The  loveliest  and  most  admirable  character  in  the  story  is  that  of  a  young  Catholic  girl, 
while  in  painting  the  cruelties  and  savage  barbarities  of  war  at  that  period  the  brush  is  held 
by  an  impartial  hand.  Books  of  adventure  and  romance  are  apt  to  be  cheap  and  sensational. 
Mr.  Weyman's  stories  are  worth  tons  of  such  stuff.  They  are  thrilling,  exciting,  absorbing, 
interesting,  and  yet  clear,  strong,  and  healthy  in  tone,  written  by  a  gentleman  and  a  man  ol 
sense  and  taste." — Sacked  Heart  Review,  Boston. 

"  Mr.  Weyman  has  outdone  himself  in  this  remarkable  book.  .  .  .  The  whole  story 
Is  told  with  consummate  skill.  The  plot  is  artistically  devised  an  1  enrolled  before  the  read- 
er's eyes.  The  language  is  simple  and  apt,  .'ind  the  descriptions  are  graphic  and  terse.  The 
charm  of  the  story  takes  hold  of  the  reader  on  the  very  first  page,  and  holds  him  spell-bound 
to  the  very  end." — New  Orleans  Picayune. 


LONaMANS,  GEEEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  EIPTH  AVE.,  NEW  YOEE. 


THE   WIZARD. 

By  H.  rider  haggard, 

AUTHOR  OF    "she,"    "king  SOLOMON'S   MINES,"    "  JOAN   HASTE,"   ETC.,  ETC. 

With   1  9  full-page  Illustrations  by  Charles  Kerr. 
Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1.25. 

"  I  owe  an  exciting,  delightful  evening  once  more  to  a  pen— say  a  voice— which 
has  held  me  a  willing  prisoner  in  a  grasp  of  iron.  It  is  now  ten  years  ago,  I  think, 
since  I  gave  Mr.  Rider  Haggard  my  opinion  that  for  the  rest  of  his  life  he  would  have 
'She  '  always  with  him  to  be  compared  with  what  might  follow.  That  incomparable 
romance,  indeed,  has  never  been  surpassed  by  any  living  writer.  Rider  Haggard  is 
the  possessor  of  an  imagination  stronger,  more  vivid,  more  audacious  than  is  found  in 
any  other  writer  of  the  time.  I  say  this  in  order  to  introduce  his  latest  work,  '  The 
Wizard.'  It  is  only  a  short  tale— too  short — but  it  shows  imaginative  power  that  makes 
it  worthy  to  follow  after  '  She.'  " — Sir  Walter  Besant,  in  "  The  Queen." 

"  The  scene  of  this  thrilling  story  is  laid  in  Africa,  but  in  many  respects  it  is  a  new 
departure  for  the  writer.  .  .  .  has  never  written  anything  more  pathetic  or  with 
greater  force  than  this  tale  of  a  missionary  venture  and  a  martyr's  death.  The  '  Pass- 
ing Over  '  is  told  with  a  simple  beauty  of  language  which  recalls  the  last  passages  in 
the  life  ot  the  martyred  Bishop  Hannington.  As  for  the  improbabilities,  well,  they  are 
cleverly  told,  and  we  are  not  afraid  to  say  that  we  rather  like  them  ;  but  Haggard  has 
never  achieved  a  conception  so  beautiful  as  that  of  Owen,  or  one  that  he  has  clothed 
with  so  great  a  semblance  of  life."— Pacific  Churchman,  San  Francisco. 

"  '  The  Wizard  '  is  one  of  his  most  vivid  and  brilliant  tales.  Miiacles  are  no  new 
things  in  the  frame-work  used  by  the  writers  of  fiction,  but  no  one  has  attempted  just 
the  use  of  them  which  Haggard  makes  in  this  novel.  It  is  so  entirely  new,  so  abso- 
lutely in  litie  with  the  expressed  beliefs  of  devout  folk  everywhere,  that  it  ought  to 
strike  a  responsive  chord  in  the  popular  heart  as  did  '  Ben  Hur,'  and  should  be  equally 
successful."— Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

"  Mr.  Haggard  gives  full  play  in  the  history  of  the  conversion  of  the  Son  of  Fire 
to  his  strong  imagination,  anci  he  has  succeeded  admirably  in  conveying  an  earnest 
religious  lesson,  while  telling  one  of  his  most  exciting  and  entertaining  stories." 

— Beacon, Boston. 

"It  is  to  be  read  at  one  sitting,  without  resisting  that  fascination  which  draws  you 
on  from  one  to  another  critical  moment  of  the  story,  to  resolve  some  harrowing  doubt 
or  dilemma.  .  .  .  Hokosa,  the  wizard,  whose  art  proved  at  first  so  nearly  fatal  to 
the  messenger's  cause,  and  whose  devilish  plots  resulted  finally  in  conversion  and 
Christianity,  is  one  of  Mr.  Haggard's  best  creations.  The  portrait  has  a  vigor  and 
picturesqueness  comparable  to  that  of '  Allan  Quatermain.'  " 

— Picayune,  New  Orleans. 

'  It  has  all  the  spirit  and  movement  of  this  popular  author's  finest  work." 

—Evening  Bulletin,  Philadelphia. 

"  A  brilliant  story  truly,  and  here  and  there  alive  with  enthusiasm  and  fire.  Mr* 
Haggard  describes  savage  combats  with  rare  skill,  and,  somehow,  we  revel  with  him 
when  he  shows  us  legion  after  legion  of  untamed  children  of  nature  fighting  to  the  grim 
death  with  uncouth  weapons  yet  with  as  dauntless  a  courage  as  the  best  trained  soldiers 
of  Europe.  It  may  be  wrong  for  him  to  stir  up  our  savage  instincts,  but,  after  all,  i 
healthy  animalism  is  not  to  be  scoffed  at  in  any  breed  of  men."— New  York  Herald. 

"  Is  as  full  of  adventure  as  the  most  ardent  admirer  of  tales  of  courage  and  daring 
could  desire.  As  its  title  implies,  it  portravs  a  character  who  is  an  adept  in  witch- 
craft, cunning,  and  knowledge  of  human  nature.  There  is  a  distinct  religious  element 
throughout  the  book  ;  indeed,  but  for  its  religious  motive  there  would  be  no  story." 

— St.  Louis  Republican. 


LONaMANS,  GREEN,  &  CO.,  91-93  riETH  AVE.,  NEW  YORK. 


UNIVERSITY  or  CVLIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


8£P  1 2 


Form  L9-17m-8, '55(6333984)444 


■  'r^-^mrin 


y  ire'.vsbiir^' 


islifll 


PR 

57?2 
S^6 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  368  958    5 


I 


4 


I 


f 


